They Were Soldiers
by turtle53
Summary: Everything is different now that they are on the run. They have lost so much, and they do not want to lose any more; perhaps it is time to find what they left behind.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Some background information on this story-Voldemort is still alive. The Battle of Hogwarts happened but neither side won, and Fred didn't die.**

**I own nothing. I'm grateful for reviews.=)**

* * *

><p>The camp is silent, the mood tense. No one looks at each other. They fiddle with their wands, polishing them, checking that they still work. They check their robes, looking for holes or burns or anything that gives them a reason to change. They do anything to avoid speaking.<p>

This is how it is after every battle. The battles bring out the worst, or perhaps the best, in them. Afterward, no one is ready to accept what they have done, that they have killed or injured _purposely._

Harry tells them it's necessary. It's them or the Death Eaters. They are fighting for their lives.

This is much different than what they expected. It isn't anything like Dumbledore's Army, practicing spells in the safe space of a room no one knows about. Here they must think on their feet. Harry can't tell them what spells to use and when every second of the battle; they must think for themselves.

They are soldiers, and they are young.

A loud _boom!_ sounds from behind them and they are all on their feet, wands drawn. The ground shakes, jets of light zoom towards them, all deflected by the wards Hermione and Cho have put up.

The Death Eaters have found them. They have another battle to fight today.

Harry shouts orders. "Everyone up!" Everyone is already up. "Wands out!" Necessary but redundant; none of them ever put their wands away anymore. "Form a line along the edge of the ward. We'll get them before they can see us." They follow directions, lining along the invisible shield, staring as the Death Eaters' curses bounce off in front of them. They stand close together, afraid and afraid to admit it.

Harry is still yelling. They move soundlessly, preparing themselves. They silently run over every spell they can think of, which will do the most damage, which will defend them.

Hermione raises her wand. She is going to take down the wards. They will only have a few seconds to surprise their attackers. They will charge hard, casting every curse and jinx they can think of in time.

Hermione looks at her friends, her fellow troop members. She sees the hard looks in their faces and it nearly breaks her heart. They are too young to be so broken.

She glances at Harry. He has that look too, but his eyes tell a different story. He knows this is going to be a difficult battle-the enemy knows where they are, they are ruthless, and they are greater in number. And he knows that if he wants to keep his soldiers fighting they can't lose any more.

He would run but it wouldn't matter. The Death Eaters will see them before they can get away because the wards have to be torn down. They will keep looking and never stop until Dumbledore's Army has been defeated.

Harry tears his gaze from Hermione-he can't lose his will and he knows she will understand. He nods, and yells "NOW!" Hermione releases the ward.

Everyone charges. The air is full of shouts-names of spells, people. It all melds together until it becomes a rhythm, a back and forth between two or more soldiers.

Harry tries to watch as he fights his own Death Eater. If anyone of his own falls, he plans to jump in and help, but he knows he may need just as much help. They are after him, above all. They need to capture him alive.

But Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, everyone else is meaningless to them.

He sees a flash of green shoot past Hannah Abbott. He whips around, searching for the Death Eater that used the Unforgivable and sees Hannah keeping her own against the enemy. He doesn't have time to think about helping as the ground explodes in front of him and he is thrown on his back.

Now Ron is near him, fighting with Neville against two more Death Eaters. He is surprised to find several bodies littering the ground, none of which belong to him.

Neville fires a spell that sends both his Death Eaters soaring into the nearest tree. Ron has time for a quick high five before they move on to their next battle.

Harry is back on his feet, fighting off spells and sending out his own. He sees something he never noticed before. Everyone is fighting in pairs.

Ron and Neville. Luna and Ginny. Fred and George. Hannah and Justin. Cho and Zacharias. Seamus and Dean. Parvati and Padma. Lavender and Ernie. Michael and Terry. He can't distinguish the other groups, they're too far away, but he sees something that makes his heart jump.

Hermione is by herself, battling three Death Eaters. And she is _winning._

He isn't surprised-she _is_ the brightest witch of their age-but he rushes to her side anyway, sending one Death Eater flying into another.

Hermione hits the third with a purple jet of light. His legs begin to shake and he falls, unable to support himself.

Harry looks at Hermione, a smile on his face. "Jelly-Legs?"

She shrugs. "They never see it coming."

They return to the battle.

Not soon enough, it is over. The Death Eaters have fled and they are packing up their camp. They need to move and quickly.

Harry counts their number, relieved to find that they have exactly the same as before. He wanders through the camp, assisting those who need it, complimenting everyone on how well they did.

He can see the difference before Hermione even mentions it.

"They're tired." She folds her arms across her chest and stares at him.

"I know," he said. "I know, Hermione. But what can I do? They wanted to come, and now we have to keep ourselves safe. There is nothing else we can do."

"Send them home, Harry, even if only for a day." Hermione's eyes plead with him.

He faces her. "I can't. They don't have homes anymore, Hermione, you know that. Everyone's families are in hiding now that Vol-" He stops. Taboo. "Now that You-Know-Who has gained full power. They have nowhere to go."

"Maybe we can help them find their families, mate." Ron has joined them.

Hermione jumps on this idea eagerly. "We can stay on the move, dropping them off as we find them. They wouldn't be in danger anymore, and we can think of a way to stay in contact, so they can come back with us if they want!"

Harry looks at his hands. He would give them this if he could, but he isn't sure it's possible.

He meets Hermione's eyes. "Can you make it work?"

She beams at him. "Of course. I'll find Cho and Terry and the others and start working on it." She takes off, already forming a plan.

Harry glances at Ron, who is smiling. "It'll work out, mate. It always does." Ron claps him on the shoulder, and follows after Hermione.

He makes his way to what used to be the center of the camp. He needs to tell them, to raise morale. This is, after all, a war, and morale is necessary.

"Everyone, I have an announcement!" They all pause, midway through their packing, but none move. "If you could gather around please!"

They move slowly, in a post-battle daze. Their faces are tired, but none have the tell-tale tear marks they had when they started out on this journey. They have grown hard.

"I know that many of you-_all_ of you miss your families. And I know that many of them are in hiding." Hermione is still grinning broadly, and others are beginning to stare at her. They shift uncomfortably, anxious for Harry to continue.

"I-we would like to help you find your families." An excited murmur breaks out, people clutch each other as they try and understand what this means. "You can visit them, or stay with them, whichever you choose. We will devise a way to stay in contact, so you can find us again if you would like."

He barely has the words out when a cheer erupts in the crowd. He is bombarded by people, hugging and clapping him on the back. Various arrays of "Thank you, Harry!" are shouted at him and he can hear people already planning their reunions.

Eventually they return to their packing, all smiling and making plans, a great difference from the mood earlier. Harry smiles to himself. He knows he has done the right thing.

He thinks they will all come back eventually-they have fought too long and too hard to just give up, it's just a momentary break.

They were soldiers, but they were young.


	2. Chapter 2

After a very long time, I have uploaded chapter two!

Much thanks to** -Tyler-Blaise- **for encouraging me to continue the story in the first place as it was originally a one-shot.

and a thousand bowls of spaghetti to **ninja82 **for allowing me to spam her inbox with this story and dealing with a hundred rewrites and out of order chapters and everything else I put her through to get this next chapter up!

hope you like it! reviews greatly appreciated=D

* * *

><p>Walking is the easiest mode of transportation, if not the safest. They are open targets, a giant bull's-eye traveling across the countryside. They trek through forests and fields alike, occasionally apparating to new locations. But apparition is difficult with so many people. More thought has to be put into choosing a destination than if there were only two or three people.<p>

So they walk, Harry, Ron and Hermione leading the group, Fred and George in the back. Harry walks with a purpose, his head high and shoulders back, instilling confidence in the travellers that he knows where he is going, even though he hardly ever does. The main thing is to always be on the move, stopping every once in a while for a short rest, only making a complete camp every few weeks when they know they are safe.

It seems they are only too easy for the Death Eaters to find. They are out in the open for anyone to see. They should be fighting a different battle every day but there hasn't been an attack since the last one.

"Make sure you stay together!" Harry calls out every once in a while, not loud enough for the whole group to hear but at a volume that ensures the message will be passed on. He hears the murmur pass through the group and suddenly feels someone at his elbow.

"They want to know when we're stopping next, Harry."

Harry sighs. He never really knows when to stop, other than when he feels safer than he did in the last few miles. "Soon."

Ginny frowns. "Harry, that's what you keep telling them, but we haven't made a real camp in weeks."

"I know, I know. It doesn't feel right yet, Ginny. I promise, we'll stop soon." He takes her hand and squeezes it, letting go as she falls back to tell the others.

He takes a deep breath and looks around. There doesn't seem to be any sign of trouble-there never does-but he can't shake the feeling that they should keep moving. He feels as if they are being watched, followed. This is normal, of course, but it feels different this time.

He doesn't feel in _danger_, exactly. It's more of an annoyance, like when someone is reading over his shoulder or a professor is watching him from afar as he perfects his technique-he would feel better if they weren't there, but they aren't really doing anything wrong.

It's dark now. Several fires are spread out across a space large enough to accommodate them all but small enough that everyone can be reached if necessary. They are tired, he can tell, and he wishes they could build a real camp here but it still doesn't feel like a good place to stop.

Harry sits himself down next to a fire that is unattended, leaning back against a log someone had used to sit on. The warmth relaxes him a bit and he feels tired but he won't sleep for a while, long after everyone else has fallen asleep. He can't rest easy until he is sure that nothing is going to come after them in their sleep.

Hermione sits next to him, leaning against the log in the same fashion as Harry.

"I feel it too," she says, turning her head to face him. "Like someone is following us, but they don't want to hurt us."

"Then why don't they just show themselves?" He expects Hermione to have all the answers, a habit he gained during their years at Hogwarts, particularly when he waited until the last minute to do an essay.

She looks into the fire, studying it, and Harry wonders if maybe she can glean any insight from the flames. He turns his gaze to the fire as well, hoping to see what she does.

"Maybe they are scared. Maybe whoever it is is afraid of us."

Harry drops his gaze back to Hermione, who is still staring into the fire. "We're the good guys, Hermione. What does he have to fear?"

"Or she," she corrects him. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he or she is worried that we wouldn't accept them."

Harry stares at Hermione long enough for her to turn and face him. "Are you saying that whoever it is is-or was-a Death Eater?"

Hermione's eyebrows knit in thought. "Not necessarily. They could have been someone associated with the Death Eaters unwillingly."

"Under the Imperius Curse?"

"Maybe. Or they have relatives involved with You-Know-Who. Or even someone we just don't like."

Harry considers this as Hermione stifles a yawn and rubs her eyes. She looks as tired as he feels.

"Go to sleep."

She smiles tiredly at him. "But I'm not even sleepy ye-" A large yawn escapes. Harry smirks at her. "Oh, all right."

She stands up and looks around the temporary campsite at the sleeping bags spread across the floor. The members of the group sleep in pairs or groups of threes, with the occasional quadrat. She begins to head back to her own sleeping bag next to Ron but a sound from Harry stops her.

He is snoring.

She sighs and laughs quietly to herself as she bends over him to wake him up. She gives him a small shake, barely containing her laughter as he sits straight up, glasses askew and fumbling for his wand.

"Coming to bed any time soon?" she asks, grinning cheekily at him.

He looks down, embarrassed, fixing his glasses and running a hand through his hair. "I'll be there soon."

She frowns at him. Soon. Soon he will be asleep against the log again, probably rolling into the fire and injuring himself. "Harry, you need to-"

"I'll be there in a minute, Hermione. Go to sleep." He isn't looking at her because he knows he will lose his will to stay up if he does. Her reproving look has that effect on him.

She sighs again, shaking her head, but makes her way to her sleeping bag. Zipping herself in she wonders if Harry will ever make it to his own sleeping bag. She stares at the empty bag next to her and extracts her arm from beneath the extra blankets she is using. She picks up her wand from beside her and taps Harry's sleeping bag several time. It glows orange for a minute and then fades.

_There_, she thinks, _now at least he'll be warm when he finally does decide to sleep._

Replacing her wand by her side and pulling her arm back beside her, Hermione quickly falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

They know something isn't right, even if Harry doesn't tell them anything. He is their leader and they know him well enough by now to know when he is worried.

They can see he is agitated by something. He walks quicker, paces while waiting for them to catch up. He is anxious any time they stop, staying up later than normal to watch over the camp.

They don't ask questions. They don't want to know. It's easier to feel safe, to concentrate on the task at hand if everything seems to be going well.

And they trust Harry. They trust him with their lives. He has led them through countless battles, kept them all alive while on the run. If he thinks that the problem isn't troublesome enough that they need to know, he is probably right.

They keep moving. They have developed a system for themselves, a way for them to stay safe yet entertained. It varies with the area they are walking through.

In forests they split into groups, no more than six, no less than three. It's safer if they split up this way, leaving just enough space between the groups to make it seem like they are alone. Or at least it feels safer, like they are making themselves harder to track through the trees.

The groups can never be exactly the same. There must be at least one new person in the group each day.

They play games: Twenty Questions, I Spy, anything they can think of. They get to know their group mates, asking questions about each other, what they're interested in, what they want to do after the war. It helps pass the time traveling through dark forests.

In the open-fields, cliffs, beaches, anywhere they lack cover for an extended amount of time-they stay together. It makes them easier to spot but then it isn't about hiding, it's about moving faster. They link arms so no one is lost or left behind. When they are all together they feel protected. If they are attacked they know that the Death Eaters will have a difficult time contending with all of them.

They sing together. They teach each other the songs they learned growing up. They make up their own songs, too. They tell stories, myths and legends of heroes that saved the world, a country, a village. Stories passed between generations.

They pass around Hermione's copy of _Tales of Beetle the Bard_, reading from it or telling the versions their mother told them. Sometimes they can get Hermione to read from it-she has the best voice for reading aloud, knows when to change her tone, how to make the story interesting.

They have learned how to make things better for themselves, even if it is only a minor distraction, a small joy. Anything that can take their minds off the danger they are in is welcome.

They follow Harry across the country. They don't know where they are going just that they are running. It's been months since they left Hogwarts to go on the run, to protect Harry from being captured by Voldemort, to be a part of the effort against him. They left their families, who were forced into hiding in order to stay alive. Going months without any contact with their loved ones, not knowing if they are safe, is difficult.

They don't regret their decision, not at all. They would do it all over again. This is the reason they wanted to be a part of Dumbledore's Army in the first place-they wanted to make a difference, they wanted to defend themselves(although the only thing they needed protection from then was Umbridge). They didn't want to be forced into submission, they wanted to take a stand.

This was better practice than anything they did in the Room of Requirement. They had something on the line-their lives-they _had_ to perform well or they wouldn't last. They learned spells from each other, defended each other with them.

But it had changed them as well. They became more serious. They are anxious when there is a long period of time between attacks. Any noise makes them draw their wands. And they don't think about the repercussions of the spells they use anymore-they don't care what it does because it's their lives or the Death Eater's life. They developed survival instincts that force them to hurt before they are hurt.

It's tiring to always be on the defensive.

But they won't quit. They will always be invested in this war, even long after it is over. They will be a part of the rebuilding, of the recovery of the Wizarding World.

They are tired, but they are strong.


	4. Chapter 4

AN:not all chapters are this short, i promise!

I own nothing. still.

* * *

><p>Every day, they ask her if she's found something, anything.<p>

Every day, Hermione has to tell them no.

After a while she tells them she will let them know when she has figured out a plan. She can't bear it anymore, looking them in the eye and watching as the small hope they have is erased.

Ron tries to comfort her. He tells her that she is doing all they could ask for by searching for a way; they can't expect miracles out of her; she's giving it all she can. It's a small comfort, only making her feel slightly better.

Any time they stop she sits down with the others-Cho, Terry and a few others, mostly of Ravenclaw-and search for an answer. They pull out their books, notes and charts, anything that will help them and pour over them. It is a difficult process because not only do they have to find the families (if only it were that easy) but they will have to break through wards set up to keep people out, and develop a solution that is quick and direct enough to use it for upwards of twenty people.

When they walk she takes a book out and continues searching. She wishes it wasn't so hard. But she has learned that often what is hard to accomplish turns out to be worth the effort.

It's made even more difficult by the fact that Harry doesn't let them stop for long, and she is so tired by the time they do stop, she doesn't get much time to work. But she does what she can to get to the answer as soon as possible.

She thinks they understand, that they realize she, Harry, and Ron are trying to protect them _now_ by staying on the move so that when they do figure out how to send them home, they will all still be alive to do so. She hopes they understand.

Sometimes, after she has been working for hours, she lets the others talk her into telling them the stories of Beetle the Bard. She reads from the book at first but after a while she knows them by heart. She has the right inflections, knows when to pause for suspense.

Even though Harry walks in front of them all, even though he seems as if all he is thinking about is getting them to the next place, she knows he listens. He finds the tales interesting, a part of a culture both he and she missed out on growing up. Sometimes, when only they and Ron are still awake, he asks her to tell them again.

When she does, it feels like old times again, when they could just hang out and have fun. When they didn't have to worry about a war or taking care of so many people.

Ron hasn't changed much-he is more serious at times, has grown up just like the rest of them, but still maintains his joking personality-but she misses the old Harry. He is different now, but who wouldn't be, if they were in his place? He has the Wizarding World on his shoulders; he's the only one that can end this war.

If it were anyone else, she is sure they would have cracked, broken, by now. But Harry just grows harder, storing the hurt and guilt and pressure he feels.

Their pursuer only adds to the difficulty of it all. Harry makes them move faster than ever, cutting their rests by several hours. She understands where he is coming from. He wants to get away from whoever was following them because letting them catch up never turns out good in the end.

She just hopes whoever it is shows themselves or leaves soon.

Then she could really get some work done.


	5. Chapter 5

It is raining.

Not a light rain, either, but in torrents. It feels as if someone is standing above them dumping buckets of water directly onto their heads.

They manage to deflect it with some umbrellas and the Impervius charm but it is still cold and bleak. Most have resorted to casting heating spells on their clothes and shoes while some insist it isn't really that bad, if they don't think about it too much.

But they don't have much else to think about. There is no school, no due dates looming over their procrastinating heads. There haven't been any attacks in weeks and they've already gone over every spell they know, and what they would like to do if they ever got their hands on a Death Eater. They would like to think about reuniting with their families but any thought of their loved ones hurts-they don't know if they are safe, if they can even be found. There is some resentment towards Harry for announcing they would be looking for the families before he even knew if there was any way to find them. But most are grateful for the effort.

The weather is the only thing left to think about.

Luna likes the rain. She dances in it from time to time, moving with the rhythm of the drops hitting the ground. Most don't hear it, or at the very least don't pay attention to it, but Luna can _feel_ it. It starts in her feet and spreads up her body, down her arms and to her hands until she can't help herself-she _has_ to dance.

No one pays her any mind, not anymore. They know her by now, that she is different.

Luna doesn't mind, not anymore. She knows she is different, and she is happy that way.

But sometimes she wishes someone would dance with her.

George doesn't like the rain. It's cold and wet and annoying. It makes his hair get in his eyes and makes his fireworks soggy. It puts him in a bad mood every time.

And he most certainly does not want to dance in it.

"Lighten up, Georgie. It's just a bit of rain," Fred tells him brightly, sensing his twin's mood.

George snorts. "A bit of rain? It's like we've been standing under a waterfall for a week."

Fred chuckles but doesn't say anything. He knows better than to start anything with George when he is out in the rain.

It seems as if several more weeks pass before Harry decides to make camp but in reality it has only been a few days.

They are in another forest-they stopped bothering to know exactly which one long ago-and they break out their tents. It isn't long before the camp is set up and everyone is inside their makeshift houses, warming themselves by the fire.

Harry goes to every tent, checking in, taking stock of injuries or illnesses, offering help when he can. He knows they are here because of him and he is grateful for it, even if it would much easier if it were just he, Ron, and Hermione again.

He considers leaving with them sometimes, but the idea never fully forms. Hermione would never agree to it, Ginny, Neville, and Luna would never let him go, and he feels guilty just_ thinking_ about abandoning them all.

They left their families to travel with him-to go on the run with him-and as much as he reminds himself that it was their decision, that they chose to go with him, and as much as Hermione and Ron tell him that everyone _wants_ to help, that he doesn't have to do everything alone, he can't keep from thinking that he ruined them. They could have gone into hiding with their families instead of battling Death Eaters; they could have been safe instead of fighting for their lives.

He could have said no.

And that is what he always comes to.

He returns to his tent to check in with Ron and Hermione before he does his nightly walk at the edges of the camp. He is going to ask Hermione to come-she likes to make sure her wards are working-but stops short when he sees her at the table, working with other members of the group on a way to find the families. He is unsure of whether he is allowed to go over there-he knows how Hermione can be when she is interrupted.

Ron appears at his side. "I wouldn't, mate. They all get a bit scary if you bother them."

Harry nods, glad Ron has come to warn him. "Any idea what they're doing?"

Ron squints at the ceiling, trying to remember what he was just told. "Altering a summoning spell, I think. Combining it with a spell to find lost objects."

Harry stares at the group. "Isn't it dangerous to mess with spells that way?"

"Probably." Ron frowns. "I think they'll be all right though. They're the brightest ones in our group-got top marks at Hogwarts, all of 'em." Ron glances uneasily at the door of the tent. "Mind you, we better keep Seamus away…"

Harry laughs, remembering all the times Seamus had blown his eyebrows off. He misses his days at Hogwarts.

Ron gives him a slight smirk, laughing at his own joke. He takes a look at Hermione, making sure she is still busy, before turning to leave the tent. "I think I'll check in on Ginny and Fred and George."

Harry follows him out, turning right when Ron turns left, and begins his walk around the camp.

It doesn't take long for him to know that something isn't quite right. It sets him on edge. He listens closely for any sound, any hint of Death Eaters or some other intruder.

He makes two full revolutions without hearing anything, coming to the conclusion that he is just being paranoid. Nothing is out there except for the animals of the forest.

_Snap._

He almost doesn't hear it, but before he knows what he is doing his wand is out and pointing in the direction of the noise. He takes a step towards the place of origin, and then another, and another until he is at the very edge of the ward. He doesn't see anything, but something, _someone_, is out there.

_Snap._

"_Expelliarmus_!" He doesn't think, just shouts the first spell that comes to mind. He hears a shout come from the other side of the ward and loud footsteps from behind him.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione is behind him, as well as the others who were working with her.

He doesn't turn around. "Someone is out there."

"Did you see them?" Ron and his siblings have joined too.

"Not yet. Show yourself!" Harry calls out. No answer.

"Do you think it's the person that's been following us, Harry?" Hermione's voice shakes slightly.

He doesn't answer. He can hear voices coming from behind the trees outside of the ward. He takes another step, passing through the barrier.

"Why can't we just show ourselves? We've been following them for weeks, and you know Potter knows!"

"It doesn't matter what Potter _thinks_ he knows. He hasn't seen us, and he's not going to anytime soon. Let's go. We've been standing here too long already."

He knows those voices, recognizes them from somewhere he hasn't been in a while.

"I'm going to show myself. I'm going to join them, like we planned."

Someone begins walking towards him. He grips his wand tighter, preparing for a fight. Light breathing behind him tells him Hermione has gone outside the ward as well.

"Astoria, no!"

Hermione takes in a sharp breath. "Astoria Greengrass. Harry, it's Astoria Greengrass."

He knew he had heard that voice before. And the other one, the drawl, he had heard it before too.

Draco Malfoy.

The footsteps are getting closer. He doesn't want to let them get to close, to know they are there before they have a chance to defend themselves.

"_Expelliarmus_!" He hears a scream and knows he has disarmed Astoria. "_Expelliarmus_! _Stupefy_!"

Behind him the others are casting spells, blindly trusting Harry, jinxing something they can't see.

"Stop! STOP!" Harry peers into the trees. "I think that's enough."

He doesn't hear any more voices. Slowly, he makes his way to their hiding spot, wand still raised.

He isn't sure what to make of what he sees.

Sprawled across the ground, unconscious, are Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy, along with several other Slytherins Harry thought he would never see again.

Silently, he and Hermione use their wands to tie them up and carry them back to the camp.

He isn't sure what to do with them. He's only _been_ a Prisoner of War, never _caught_ any.


	6. Chapter 6

As much as I wish circumstances were different, I still own nothing.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy sprawls out on the sofa, kicking Gregory Goyle off so that he has more room. On the ground below him sit the other members of his group, all captured with him. Astoria is standing beside him, glowering down at his pale-blond head.<p>

He ignores her and grabs a pillow, shaping it and placing it beneath his head. He is going to be here for a while, so he might as well make himself comfortable.

"This is your fault."

He opens one eye and stares at his accuser. "Please tell me, Greengrass, how this is _my_ fault, when you are the one who decided to show yourself."

"If we had followed the plan, we would already have shown ourselves to Potter and the others when they first made it out of the range of the Death Eaters. We could have explained and gained their trust. But _you_ decided to play group leader and _you_ changed the plan, and now because of _you_ they are treating us like prisoners."

He opens both eyes now, growing tired of listening to her. "Did you really think it would be that easy, Greengrass? That we could just explain that we've been following them for months without them knowing and they would just be okay with it? We would have been prisoners regardless. We would have had to let them take us in and question us." He sits up and faces her, looking her coldly in the eyes. "And because _you_ decided to walk straight into Potter and his followers, we were attacked, had our wands removed, and are now stuck in Potter's living room until they see fit to return."

He doesn't see the pillow until it is too late. With a loud _thwack_, Astoria hits him in the face with the pillow he just abandoned.

He is about to retaliate when Goyle lets out a yell and is thrown against the sofa, a shocked look on his face.

Draco sighs in frustration. "I already told you Goyle, stay within the edges of the rug. Granger set up some powerful spells to keep us in here. As much fun as it is to see you repeatedly thrown around, after the third time it does grow tiresome."

Goyle gets to his feet, glaring at the invisible barrier keeping him inside his cage. Draco can't help but think he looks like a gorilla in captivity.

Something stirs outside the tent.

"Shut up, someone is coming." Astoria faces the opening of the tent, hoping for someone in charge that will let them out.

A dark-haired girl comes in. She keeps her head down, away from the captives as if she is afraid to look at them. Her dark skin glows in the light from the lamps hanging around the tent.

"I need your names, all of you."

The prisoners don't answer-Astoria out of disappointment, Draco out of spite, and the rest haven't yet been told to reply.

The girl looks up long enough for Astoria to recognize her as one of the Patil twins. "I need your names." She looks back down, carefully avoiding eye contact-perhaps she is afraid the prisoners can cause harm just by meeting her eyes.

"Draco Malfoy." Astoria is surprised he is the first to answer.

"Pansy Parkinson." Pansy follows, in her never ending attempts to please Malfoy.

"Gregory Goyle."

"Daphne Greengrass." Her sister's voice is slightly shaky, no doubt noticed by no one but herself.

"Blaise Zabini."

"Theodore Nott." He stares at her, pushing her to answer.

"Astoria Greengrass."

The girl nods, writing each of their names down on a piece of parchment, and turns to leave.

"What's your name?" It's a desperate hope, a weak grab at a chance to gain momentum towards becoming allies. If the girl feels safe enough, trusting enough to tell Astoria her name, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to win over the others.

The girl freezes, her back towards Astoria and the others. Astoria can't see her face but she understands the difficulty of the decision.

"Parvati." The girl walks quickly out of the tent without another look at them.

Astoria smiles at her small victory.

The others stare at her with the exception of Draco, who has returned to laying on the sofa. They don't ask questions-they would never admit it, but they always leave that sort of thing to Draco. Even her sister, who always followed Pansy, stares at her.

Astoria falls into the chair next to the sofa, closing her eyes. If she were to start this whole-what should she call it, _trip?- _over again, she would ditch the sheep and choose more shepherds. And leave Malfoy at home.

She curls up in the armchair, resting her head on the arm nearest the sofa. She immediately regrets this decision, as Draco's head is now near her, but she is too tired to change position.

His voice is so soft she barely hears it. "Good work, Greengrass." His voice lacks the usual sarcasm. He is actually complimenting what she has done, for once.

She smiles slightly to herself. Maybe she would take him, if she were to start over again.

He isn't so bad _all_ of the time.


	7. Chapter 7

I own nothing! and alas, I never will.

* * *

><p>"What are we going to do with them?"<p>

Padma looks up at her sister, who asked the question. "I'm not sure, 'Vati. Question them, at least."

Parvati stares into the fire, a troubled look on her face. "But, they're not going to be hurt, are they?"

Her sister gives her a curious glance. "I doubt it. I don't think anyone here is one to harm without being provoked."

Parvati nods. It seems reasonable enough, coming from her sister.

They are joined by Ginny, Neville, and Luna, all taking seats around the fire as well. They shift for a moment, making themselves comfortable on the ground, before joining in on the conversation.

"I _hope_ someone hurts Malfoy at least, the stupid prat," says Ginny, tossing a log into the fire. It isn't necessary, the fire is a magical creation that won't stop burning until someone magically puts it out, but it does make the fire a little higher, and she likes watching as the wood smolders, slowly becoming smaller and smaller. "And maybe Goyle, too."

"I wonder what they were doing, following us. You said they wanted to show themselves, didn't you, Gin?" Neville asks, glancing at the redhead.

"At least one of them did, one of the girls. She said it was what they planned to do."

"Which girl?" Parvati speaks up, her voice inquiring.

Ginny shrugs. "I couldn't see who it was. It wasn't Pansy, I can tell you that. I would recognize her annoying voice anywhere. It had to be one of the other two."

Parvati doesn't say anything. She knows which girl it was.

Neville repeats his statement. "I wonder why they were following us."

No one has an answer for him. They stare silently into the fire, thinking about what could lead seven Slytherins to follow them across the country.

"Maybe they were working on You-Know-Who's orders?" suggests Neville.

Padma shakes her head. "If they were working for him, why would they plan to show themselves to us?"

Ginny guesses, "To attack us, or get us to attack them?" _Which we did_, she adds silently to herself.

"They don't seem…_bad_," Parvati interjects, wiping some dust off her pants.

Ginny looks at her incredulously. "Bad? Of course they're bad! It's Slytherins we're talking about here! And not just any Slytherins, but Malfoy and Parkinson, the worst of them all! And Nott's dad is a Death Eater."

"I know, I know, but when I went in there, they didn't seem like they were the same as they used to be. They didn't insult me or say anything sarcastic. They just gave me their names."

Ginny makes a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "That's because they are our captives. We have the upper hand, and their fates depend on our kindness."

Parvati looks away, back into the fire. "They could have insulted me if they had wanted. I'm not important, I don't affect their fate."

"Of course you're important." Hermione appears, Ron just behind her. She sits down next to Parvati and reaches for her hand, squeezing it in that comforting way that Hermione does so often. It doesn't make Parvati feel any better. "Everyone here is important."

Parvati shrugs her shoulders, tilting her head to the side. "I just mean that I don't think they want to do anything mean or bad to us. One of them asked my name."

The others look at her as if she has gone mad. How could asking for her name have any significance in a war?

Her face burns from their stares but she doesn't add anymore. She doesn't want to explain how she felt when the girl asked for her name. She doesn't think they would understand. She doesn't even really understand herself how that one question could make her think that the Slytherins had changed. It shouldn't mean anything.

But the girl had sounded so desperate to get Parvati's attention, something a person working under You-Know-Who would never do. She had almost been pleading with Parvati, and none of the others said anything about it.

Maybe instead of making her stronger the war has made her softer, more compassionate, to the point that she was defending known enemies. She isn't sure which idea she likes.

Her hand is being squeezed again and she looks up to see Hermione staring at her. And this time Parvati is comforted because she can see in Hermione's eyes that Hermione understands what she means.

"I'm not sure I care much why they were following us. Malfoy was a Death Eater, his parents were Death Eaters; I say that we put an end to anything he may be doing before he gets a chance to give us up." Zacharias Smith flips his wand back and forth between his fingers. He and several others have joined the group around the fire.

A sudden burst of anger surges through Parvati. She jumps up, wrenching her hand out of Hermione's grasp, and turns on Zacharias.

"We can't just kill them because of what they have done in the past! They could have changed!"

Zacharias stumbles backward, startled by her outburst. "They would do the same if it were the other way around, Parvati."

"But we're not _them_! We are the good side-the Light! We're supposed to do what's _right_, not what we would think they would do if the tables were turned!"

"Parvati, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

But she has turned on the whole group now, directing her words toward all of them, because she knows most of them agree with Zacharias. "Have you all forgotten why we are here? We're here to stop You-Know-Who. We're here to protect Harry. We're here because we are _against him_ and everything that he stands for, which includes killing those who don't agree with him, or who have gone against him, _for fun._ And now you want to do the same." She takes a deep, shaky breath. "Has the war changed you so much that you want to be like him?"

She stares at them, tears in her eyes, as they absorb her words. They stare back, eyes widened in surprise. Parvati wasn't known for heartfelt speeches, or any speech remotely serious, and she had just scolded the entire group.

"She's right." Everyone turns to look at Harry, standing behind them. He walks through the crowd as it separates for him. "Last year, none of you would have thought about killing Malfoy. Now, I bet every single one of you wants to." He stops in front of Parvati and looks her directly in the eye. "We can't become what we are fighting against."

There is a murmur in the crowd, an agreement amongst people who have just become ashamed of themselves. They disappear almost one by one, each returning back to their own fires and tents. Padma waits close by for her sister, still locked in a stare with Harry.

"Please," Parvati whispers, loud enough for Harry to hear but Hermione and Ron strain to listen. "Please don't do anything to them until you've listened to their story. Please keep an open mind and don't judge them by their past." It's important that he does what she asks. She needs to know that he, their leader, can resist becoming like their enemy.

He is still staring, his green eyes piercing her dark brown ones. She won't look away until he has agreed.

"I promise," he says, not in a whisper but in a voice loud enough to be heard by her sister, who looks up.

Parvati smiles and in her happiness she throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He doesn't know what to do at first, he hasn't been hugged by anyone other than Hermione and the Weasleys. He pats her on the back in what he hopes is a comforting way, and she releases him, running off to join her sister.

On the ground below him, Hermione beams at him, tears in her eyes. She is proud of what she saw on both ends-Parvati, a soldier, not being so damaged by the war that she lost all her empathy, and Harry, promising that he would listen with an open mind to a person he had hated most of his life.

The reason for Hermione's smile is not lost on Ron, who is smiling as well if not as broad. He takes a bite out of the sandwich in his hand and gets to his feet, clapping Harry on the shoulder before heading back to the tent.

He thinks maybe he will make another sandwich.


	8. Chapter 8

err...well, it's been a while. but I promise, for those reading, that the story is done and I have made myself commit to an uploading schedule, and the entire finished story will be up within the next few weeks.

I own nothing!

* * *

><p>The best strategy for questioning prisoners is to separate them. Don't allow them the comfort of their comrades, make them uneasy and worried enough about being caught in a lie that they tell the truth, or at least enough of it to piece together a story.<p>

Harry and Hermione begin with Draco Malfoy. He wasn't their first choice-they originally brought Astoria to one of the tents set up for questioning-but Malfoy had refused to speak to his interrogators. After several minutes of glowering and more than a few threats, Ron and Neville passed their prisoner on to the only people he would give any information to, trading him for his more cooperative counterpart.

"How long have you been following us?" Harry sits across from Malfoy at a small table. The only light in the tent comes from a lantern floating above their heads.

"Since the day you left." The quickness of Malfoy's response surprises Harry. He had expected Malfoy to fight him, make sarcastic remarks and snide comments.

"It would have been harder to follow an elephant through the forest."

There it is.

"Why were you following us?"

Malfoy stares at Harry, calculating, determining whether his story will be believed or not. He doubts it-if he were them, he wouldn't believe himself-but the best option he has is to tell the truth. He has never liked giving Potter what he wants, has spent years making it as hard as possible for Potter, and now he has to admit to being on Potter's side.

It's a hard pill to swallow.

"We were ensuring you made it out of the range of the Death Eaters safely." He leans back in his chair, watching for a response.

To his surprise, they laugh.

Malfoy raises his eyebrows, waiting for them to calm down.

Hermione is the first to quiet herself. "Do you expect us to believe that, Malfoy?"

Malfoy doesn't say anything. He waits for Potter to sober up so he can direct his answer towards him.

"I've changed."

The look in Potter's eyes tells him that he remembers Malfoy's change of heart in the Room of Requirement. He remembers what Narcissa Malfoy did for him in the forest. Something else flashes in Potter's eyes, a look he doesn't understand, he _can't_ understand because he doesn't know the promise Harry has made.

It is silent for a few moments-Hermione has caught on to what passed between the two boys, remembering the actions of the two Malfoy's during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Why?" Harry wants a better explanation, even though he knows the answer. He knows about Malfoy's sixth year at Hogwarts and the year of living with Voldemort that followed.

Malfoy looks coolly at Harry. "He ruined my family. He tormented me for two years. I don't let anyone get away with that."

"So this is about you." Hermione folds her arms across her chest.

Malfoy smirks. "Of course it's about me."

Hermione pulls up her own chair to the table and sits down. She wants to hear his whole story and has a feeling it is a long one. She and Harry stare at Malfoy expectantly.

"It didn't take us long to decide we were going. It was-" he pauses, deciding whether or not to continue on this train of thought, and concludes that it is best to tell them the whole truth. "It was Astoria's idea, really. Her parents had never been involved with him but as soon as the battle at Hogwarts was over he began recruiting all the Slytherin parents. He put her parents under the Imperius only hours after the battle-they had apparated onto the grounds to find Astoria and Daphne-and Astoria was upset."

He remembers how angry she had been, yelling and storming through their safe house, determined to rescue her parents, the disappointment in her eyes when Daphne gave them up as a lost cause.

Maybe he wouldn't tell them everything.

"My parents went into hiding-they had defied him when he needed them most and weren't going to be forgiven. I managed to find the others and convinced them to go with us. Astoria wouldn't come initially but once she learned that Daphne had already gone with my parents, she decided to follow. While we were there, she resolved to free her parents. She wanted to go after him but I told her that would get her killed. I convinced her the best way was to secretly undermine him, defy him, and she got it in her head that we needed to help you."

She wouldn't listen to him. She wanted her revenge now, she didn't want to wait until the war was over to get her parents back. She screamed at him, accused him of not wanting to help her. She screamed at her sister for not being on her side, for abandoning their parents so quickly.

"We packed that night and left the next morning. We knew you were meeting at the outer edge of the Forbidden Forest, the farthest away from Hogwarts-we had sent Nott to check that you were there while we packed. We cast Disillusionment charms over ourselves but it didn't matter. We never got close enough for you to see us."

Astoria had wanted to join them right away but he talked her out of it. If the Death Eaters saw them with Potter, Astoria's parents, Nott's parents, all of their parents that were still followers of Voldemort would be put in danger.

"There are so many of you that it was easy enough to side along apparate without anyone knowing. The Death Eaters were following you this way as well. We stopped as many of them as we could, but when one makes it through, more show up. We assisted you when they attacked-we always made loud noises or made the ground shake, did anything to alert you to their presence. We fought from the trees, taking them out while you were battling. A few weeks ago, you lost them-apparated without them, and they couldn't find you. That is when-as we call it-you were out of the range of the Death Eaters."

He remembered that day well-it had spawned an argument between him and Astoria, not that anything really needed to happen for them to argue anymore. She had wanted to show themselves to Potter and he said it wasn't time. They needed to ensure no more Death Eaters were near, so they wouldn't be spotted, and if Potter was attacked they couldn't be blamed.

Astoria said that Malfoy was just letting his pride get in the way, that he didn't want anyone to know he had been helping "Dumbledore's Army," especially not the leaders.

He wasn't stupid though. He hadn't come all this way just to let his pride ruin him.

"Sometimes, you would apparate too quickly for us-when whoever was on guard had fallen asleep, or we didn't have enough time to get our things together."

"How did you follow us when that happened?" Granger asks.

"With this." He pulls a small, brightly colored rock out of his pocket. It is jagged along one edge, as if it has cracked and broken apart, and it glows faintly, a light green surrounding the edges.

Potter looks at him doubtfully-"A rock?"-but Granger stares at the rock as if it is a lost treasure waiting to reveal its secrets to her.

"Yes, Potter, a rock. We also skipped it across rivers and threw it at Goyle's head."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Just explain, Malfoy."

"We cast a spell on it-a locating spell. And we followed its pull."

The look on Potter's face told Malfoy he did not understand. But Granger did.

"You need a counterpart for a locating spell. Something that is connected to the piece you have, so that piece will pull you in the direction the other piece is heading."

Malfoy laughs. "It was easy enough to place the other half of this rock amongst your ranks. Astoria put it in the bag of someone who wouldn't throw it out-someone who would think it was a sign of some odd creature or symbol of luck."

Harry and Hermione exchange looks. "Luna."

Malfoy nods. "Loony Lovegood, the one and only."

"Don't call her that!" Both of his interrogators snap at him.

He lifts up his hands in surrender. "Habit."

"The ward doesn't protect us from that?" Harry looks at Hermione.

She shakes her head, the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. "Locating spells are complicated magic, and it's even more complicated to protect against them. I can make the camp untraceable, I can make each member of the group untraceable, but I would have to make the rock untraceable to defend against a locating spell. To do that I would have to know about the existence of the rock in the first place and then undo the locating spell or cast a strong enough untraceable spell to overpower it."

"Oh." Harry accepts that if Hermione can't do it, it can't be done.

Hermione is worried. "If they could track us this way so easily, then the Death Eaters could too."

Malfoy shakes his head, letting out a derisive laugh. "Those bloody idiots can't cast any spell that doesn't cause bodily harm. And _he_ doesn't waste much time giving his followers advice. He just expects results."

He knew from experience.

He would get him for what he went through in his sixth year.

"If the Death Eaters were following us, why didn't they attack more?" He could always trust Potter to question war strategy.

"They wait for you to grow complacent, to think you are safe. They attack while you are on the move and the least prepared."

"But the last time, we were still under our wards."

"Sometimes the Dark Lord gets impatient. He wants them to attack, to force you to abandon your protection and defend yourselves." Draco thinks that he probably isn't helping his cause by sounding like a war general for Voldemort, but this information is helping Potter, and that is why he is here.

Potter and Granger think for a moment, glancing at each other, exchanging silent thoughts.

"What about the others? Can we trust them?"

Draco thinks for a moment about how to assure them of his travelling partners' integrity. "Goyle's father was killed in the battle of Hogwarts. He blames _him_ for it, for making his father a Death Eater. He isn't the most brilliant person, but he loves his family. He is against _him_."

The other two nod and wait for him to continue.

"Pansy's and Zabini's families are not associated with him. They may dislike you but they are not on his side and have no desire to be. Daphne will do whatever Astoria decides to do."

"And Nott?" Potter asks. "His father is a Death Eater. By choice."

Draco pauses. Nott is a different case than the others. A more complicated case. "His father is a Death Eater, yes, but he is not. He doesn't like the idea of a crazy, deranged, leader. He didn't want You-Know-Who to come to power. He is willing to put his prejudices aside for the moment and assist us."

Potter and Granger stare at him, going over his story and his arguments in their heads. He knows they will have difficulty believing him-he remembers Hogwarts as well as they do-and is preparing to defend his explanation when they stand up. Surprisingly, they head for the opening in the tent.

"That's good enough, for now." Potter exits first.

"Your tent is the grey one next to ours. You'll be sharing with Nott, Goyle, and Zabini. They are already in there-they were _much_ more cooperative than you. Join them when you like." Granger turns back toward him.

His eyes widen slightly in shock. "That's it?" Could it be that easy?

"Well, what did you expect? You answered our questions, you didn't really do anything _wrong_-weird, maybe, but not wrong-and you helped us." She smiles slightly, raising one eyebrow. "You're a changed man, Malfoy, and we're not ones to hold grudges. We keep open minds." She leaves him, the tent flapping behind her.

He snorts to himself-he is quite sure they have held a grudge against him since the first day of their first year. But he is in no position to turn down their offer of alliance, as much inference as it requires.

He leaves the tent, blinking as he steps out into the bright light. He heads back to his newly acquired tent, hoping to find Astoria.

He wonders if the Weasel and Longbottom treated her as well as Potter and Granger did him.

His only thought is that if they didn't, he and they were going to have a serious talk as soon as he got his wand back.


	9. Chapter 9

Hello readers! So this is turtle53 's friend-and fellow writer-ninja82 !

So she's home for break and we got to talking about this and we decided that since I have the whole of this, I'll finish posting it for her!

I'm going to post a chapter about every... 2/3 days, and there's 8 more to go after this!

She wants you all to know that she's sorry about this, she just got busy.

The girl is smart and is off being (semi) diligent about her studies.

**Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

><p>"Let's have a duel. Let's practice, Michael."<p>

Michael raises his eyebrows at Terry, not moving from the sofa inside their tent.

"C'mon Michael. All we've been doing is researching, trying to find a way to send everyone home. Hermione has given us a break and I want to do something I know I'm good at."

"If you're so good, then why do you need practice?"

Terry lets out a frustrated sigh. "Because, I do."

"You don't get enough practice during the attacks? You need to look for battles now?" Michael lets out a derisive laugh.

Terry stares at him angrily for a moment before pointing his wand at the couch. It lifts several feet into the air before turning sideways, dumping Michael onto the ground.

Michael groans, sending out a fist to hit Terry but Terry dodges it and waits for Michael to get up.

He does. "Alright, alright. I'll go."

Terry smiles smugly and walks out of the tent and into the center of the camp, Michael following.

They stand a reasonable distance apart, wands out. Everyone gathers around, having nothing else to do in the camp.

Terry bows, and just as he reaches the lowest point a spell hits his hand, sending his wand flying. He glares at his opponent, who is now the one smiling smugly.

"No one bows during battle, Boot." Michael laughs.

Terry rolls his eyes and retrieves his wand. He has barely turned around again when he yells, "_Stupefy!"_ and sends Michael flying, mid laugh.

"No one gives warnings during battle, Corner."

Michael gets up, sending a jinx at Terry, who dodges it, sending back one of his own. It is only a matter of moments before the duel heats up and the crowd stops cheering. It is clear that this is no longer a friendly duel.

The boys fire spells at each other without thinking, dodging left and right, using their battle skills. This isn't a real battle, there is no real danger, but an outsider wouldn't be able to tell. Their faces are blazing; they toss each other around as they would a Death Eater.

Michael cries out, "_Reducto!_" and an orange flash of light emerges from his wand, jetting past Terry and hitting the tree behind him. There is a loud explosion and a sharp _crack_ as the tree breaks in half. Terry has just enough time to jump out of the way before it falls, hitting the ground where he was standing moments before.

He faces his opponent, both breathing hard. They turn away from each other, looks of shock and confusion on their faces, as if they have come out of a trance. They never intended for this to happen, it was just supposed to be practice, they weren't supposed to want to hurt each other.

But they had wanted to hurt each other and it is for this reason that Terry switched tents with Zacharias. And it is for this reason that Terry and Michael lay in their beds, silent tears streaming down their faces long after their new tent mates were asleep, crying over how much they truly have lost in the war.

When Hermione hears about the duel, about the tent switch, the probable destruction of the relationship between two best friends, she cries as well. She cries for everything that has happened to cause this, for her soldiers-no, her _friends_- to forget who they are. They are running a race to stay alive and they all seem to have left who they used to be at the start line.

Ron tries to comfort her. He sits beside her, his arms around her, rocking her with his face in her hair, whispering that everything is going to be all right. Everything is going to work out, she will find a way soon, it is only a matter of time. She lets him rock her but it doesn't help. She only cries harder because she still has Ron when so many of the others are missing their families.

Harry sits on the couch, staring at his hands, occasionally running them through his hair. He doesn't say anything, just lets Ron comfort Hermione because deep down he knows that neither he nor Ron can provide what Hermione needs.

She needs to figure out how to get them home, and she needs to do it _now._

* * *

><p><em><em>The next chapter should be up soon! If you're still around, she wants to thank you for not giving up!

Thanks for reading and please, review!


	10. Chapter 10

The next chapter, as promised.

Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: We do NOT own Harry Potter.**

* * *

><p>Hermione runs a hand through her messy hair, tangling it even more. Between the interrogations and failed attempts at finding the correct spell to recover the families, she hasn't slept in several days and there are dark circles under her eyes. Harry and Ron give up trying to get her to sleep after the second day when she nearly bites their heads off. They stay away from the table covered with all of her work, their survivalist instincts telling them this was their safest bet.<p>

Their last effort had fallen through. It had been too difficult to alter the spells, to try and combine so many spells into one. It hadn't yielded any good outcomes either, mostly resulting in a smoking, burning table and, occasionally, charred hair.

She is determined to find the parents as soon as possible. They promised weeks ago that the members of the group would be reunited with their families and so far none of their families had been located.

This could only mean one thing-she wasn't trying hard enough.

The only one who stayed with her was Cho Chang. She was as resolute as Hermione. While her fellow Ravenclaws took breaks to sleep and eat, Cho had to be coerced into departing for meals-she never left to sleep, but both she and Hermione occasionally fell asleep at their work. Neither mentioned it when it happened, they were so united in their feelings about this task.

"We've tried everything." Cho knows that there is always more that they can do, but she needs the reassurance from Hermione that she is still trying.

"There's got to be something we haven't tried yet." Hermione's eyes scan the tabletop, searching for something, _anything_ they haven't tested or revised or already deemed as impossible. She rifles through pages of notes, spell alterations, crossed out ideas and even doodles. She just needs one thing to stand out, _one thing_ she can latch onto and work on.

She throws the papers, letting out a sigh of frustration as they fall to the ground around her. Cho looks dejected-if Hermione can't find anything, then there must be nothing left to find.

Hermione begins clearing the table, a trick she used to use when she ran out of ideas for an essay. She would start over, with a clear mind, and something would eventually pop out at her. It never failed her before.

As she stacks the papers into separate piles, placing them on the shelves behind her, her eyes fall onto a book on the ground. It is placed under the leg of a chair, a thin layer of dust covering it. She vaguely remembers Terry Boot complaining about a wobbly chair, sticking a book under the short leg to balance it.

She picks up the book, blowing the dust off of the cover. It is made of thick leather, the binding slightly weakened by many uses. The cover tells her it is her Ancient Runes textbook.

She sets the book on the table and tries to remember everything she can about the subject.

…_the most ancient form of magic…most powerful, works nearly every time if the correct runes are drawn…more specific than most spells..._

…_can be made more specific than most spells…_

_If the correct runes are drawn, the magic produced can be as specific as the creator's liking, used for anything the creator wishes, and will work no matter who draws them._

"Ancient Runes, Cho! The one thing we haven't tried is Ancient Runes!" Hermione excitedly pushes the book between them.

She flips open the cover, searching for the runes to match what she is thinking. Cho leans over, looking along with Hermione. If anyone else were in the room they would be able to feel the excitement, the sudden rush of energy that has taken over.

"The one for family!" Cho points at the page Hermione is currently on. Hermione hastily scribbles down the rune.

"What about destination?" Cho looks to her companion for help.

Hermione thinks for a moment, her brow furrowed. "I think that could work, but I think location would work better." She turns to the correct page and copies down both symbols.

"Find, or search?"

Hermione nods, quickly finding the correct location and drawing the runes next to the other ones.

They stare at the paper with the runes. It doesn't feel complete to Hermione, a feeling she hates-she is so close to the solution and she can't quite make it. It's like she is sinking in the ocean and someone has thrown her a life preserver just out of her reach. She knows she can make it, if she just tries hard enough.

She thinks about what exactly they are trying to do. They are trying to find the location of their friends' families. Trying to reunite them.

Trying to send them home.

"Home. That's the last rune. Home."

Cho flips to the page with their final symbol and writes it down next to the others. "Now the other question is: what order do they go in?"

Hermione continues studying the runes. She has to get the order exactly right if she wants to make it work. As much as she knows there are only so many ways to order the four symbols, she wants to get it right the first time-the sooner the better.

The most important part of the task is the "find, or search." That should come first. But which do they use? Which is the most exact?

Searches don't always end with the searcher obtaining what they were looking for. To find means the object is in hand, it has been located.

"Find is first."

Cho writes the number one next to the symbol for find, and crosses out the one for search.

"Location is next." That is the next part of the task: the location of the families. "Family is third."

This only left home, the natural rune following family. Home is where the family is.

Cho numbers the runes, crossing out the ones deemed unnecessary, and hands the paper to Hermione, who clears a spot on the floor. She pulls out her wand and traces the symbols into the carpet of the tent.

"Hermione, how do the runes know which family to locate?"

Hermione stares at the floor, which begins to glow yellow, forming a circle beneath her hands. "The magic only works for the person who draws it. So everyone will have to draw these runes in order to find their own families."

"And how will we get them to their families?" It's a good thing Cho is here-as much as Hermione hates questions while she is working, she knows that Cho's questions are important and are saving her time. She won't have to deal with these questions later when she thinks of them.

"Look up the rune for transport. We'll put it between location and family."

Cho quickly does what Hermione tells her, handing her another paper with the correct rune copied down. Hermione erases the runes already written on the floor and traces the new combination.

She and Cho watch as the floor glows under the runes, a small circle once again forming beneath her hands, growing larger. Hermione can see people inside the circle. Two people and a vast expanse of what looks like desert, or perhaps just dirt. A few cows are scattered around, and a small house is in the background. It looks to be a ranch.

Two people. A ranch. Desert-like conditions.

Hermione has found her parents.

"It works. Cho, it works!" She jumps up and grabs the other girl, pulling her into a tight hug. All their hard work has paid off.

Cho runs outside, yelling to the camp. "We've done it! It works!"

But Hermione is distracted by the yellow orb by her feet.

All she would have to do is touch it, make contact with the runes, and she could be with her parents for the first time in almost a year and a half. They wouldn't know who she was, would think she was a stranger, but she could fix that easily. All she has to do is touch it.

Harry comes running in, clapping her on the shoulder. "I knew you would figure it out, Hermione. It was only a matter of t-" He cuts off as he sees her longing expression and follows her gaze.

He knows what it would mean to her to go and see them. But she won't do it, not even if he gave her permission-not that he would ever dream of giving her permission, because she doesn't need it. She won't leave him and Ron, wouldn't leave them for anything, especially not now, after all they have been through.

He takes her hand and squeezes it lightly. She squeezes back and turns to look at him, tears in her eyes. She wipes them and gives him a shaky smile. "It's not worth it, not yet. Not until the war is over and I don't have to worry about their safety."

Harry nods. He begins heading towards the tent door, pulling her with him. "Everyone is waiting to praise you, Hermione."

She follows willingly, wanting to be away from the circle of temptation on the floor.

Outside the crowd gathers her up, lifting her onto their shoulders and chanting her name as if she were some war hero. She lets them, smiling and telling them that Cho helped too but they already have her up on their shoulders as well.

She pushes all thoughts of leaving aside. She belongs here, for now.

* * *

><p>This is one of my personal favorites.<p>

Please, review.

:)

-ninja82


	11. Chapter 11

I may or may not be a day late.

Sorry!

But here it is, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

><p>Astoria rips back the opening to the tent and charges in, followed closely by Draco and her sister. They had tried to stop her from going in there, from even leaving their own tent, but they learned long ago that she is hard to influence when she is angry. The most they could hope for now was saving themselves from being thrown out of the camp.<p>

She comes to a stop, hands on her hips and a fire in her eyes, before Harry, who sits on the same arm chair she slept in only days before. Harry doesn't know what to do at first with the small girl before him that looks ready to hex him into oblivion-he isn't sure what he's done and doesn't know Astoria at all well enough to know what she is thinking.

Hermione and Ron watch from the sofa as Draco and Daphne halt behind Astoria and try to get some sort of control over her. Daphne seems to be helpless, staring at her sister with an expression of confusion. Draco steps up behind her and grabs her elbow, pulling her back to him. He mutters something in her ear that they can't hear. She shakes him off, jerking her arm out of his grip but her face has relaxed some, the fire less bright in her eyes and her hands slipping off her hips.

But she is still angry, and she isn't going to give up quite that easily.

"You're sending them home. You've come so far and you're just sending them home!"

Harry's eyes tighten, the beginning of a glare forming. She has no right to question this decision-_his _decision.

"They deserve it."

"But the war isn't over! You need them!" She doesn't understand why he doesn't see this.

But he does see this and he does understand how important the others are to him. "I know. I know the war isn't over and I know I need them. But they are tired and hurt and they need to go home-they _deserve_ to go home. They have been fighting for a long time."

"So have we!"

"I think our war started long before yours."

Everyone turns to look at Ron, who has broken his silence. They stare at him, waiting for him to explain, to expand on his statement.

"Well, didn't it? You guys are Purebloods, his," he nods at Draco, "family were Death Eaters. You didn't have anything to worry about with the return of You-Know-Who. Not like the rest of us." He pauses, watching as the others take in his words, hoping they make sense. "And last year, at Hogwarts, you guys were safe. You're Slytherins. The war hadn't truly begun for you yet, while everyone else here fought to stay alive."

They all still stare at Ron, absorbing his words. He begins to think he hasn't made any sense at all. He is embarrassed, a blush beginning to build on his face, but Hermione takes his hand and squeezes it, relaying her agreement and telling him he has done well.

Astoria reluctantly agrees. "Fine. You're right. You have been fighting longer than we have. But that doesn't change the fact that you are getting rid of your whole…army!" She shouts the last word.

"They can come back at any time, if they choose to." Harry takes up the argument again.

"And what if they don't? What if they decide they would rather stay with their families, where they are safe and warm and comfortable all the time instead of coming back?" She feels as if this is the most obvious counterargument, the only reason he should need not to send them home.

But she doesn't know the guilt Harry feels for bringing them along in the first place. She doesn't know how he stays up late to make sure they are all safe because if anything happens to them it is his fault. She doesn't know that he would prefer if they didn't come back because then he won't have to worry about their safety, worry that he will get them all killed.

"Then they can stay there. I'm not going to force them to be anywhere they don't want to be."

"But you need them here! You need them so you can get to You-Know-Who and end this war!"

Confused, Harry looks at Ron and Hermione. Ron looks just as bewildered as Harry, but he can already see that Hermione is working something out in her mind. "We've been keeping away from him, not going to him," he says.

"This is about your parents, isn't it, Astoria?" Hermione speaks for the first time. "You think this means we're giving up, abandoning the fight, and without the rest of the group we won't be able to stop him. We won't save your parents."

Hermione's look of sympathy forces Astoria to look away. "Doesn't it?"

Harry looks past Astoria to Daphne, and then to Draco, who stares back at him, and then he remembers. He remembers that Voldemort took Astoria's parents, that she agreed to secretly help Harry out so that he could defeat Voldemort and she could have her parents back.

He knows what it's like to lose parents, loved ones, to Voldemort. The difference between him and Astoria is that she has a chance to get her parents back, her loss doesn't have to be permanent. He is that chance.

Hermione answers for him. "No. It doesn't."

Astoria takes a step back from Harry. Her expression has softened and she no longer looks as if she is going to jinx anyone.

"We will stop him, Astoria." Harry has to stop him, he is the only one who can.

Astoria nods. "Thank you." _For understanding_, she adds in her mind, but she is certain they know what she means. "And I'm sorry for yelling."

He simply waves his hands at her dismissively. "It's not the first time I've been shouted at."

She nods again. Silence begins to fill the room, and before it can take an awkward turn she excuses herself, leaving the tent with her sister following. She is very different than when she went into the tent. She is happy, almost bursting, that they aren't giving up, that she still has a chance to save her parents even if her sister has already written them off.

She could almost dance.

Inside the tent, Draco stares at Harry. "I told you she was determined."

Harry laughs. "That's an understatement."

Draco turns to leave but Hermione has a question. "What did you tell her, when you came in, that calmed her down a bit?"

He pauses before the opening in the tent, looking over his shoulder at the last three people he ever thought he would be helping during the war. They look at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"I told her to remember why we did this. Harry is our only chance at saving her parents, and if she wants to help, she had better not get us tossed from the camp. It worked. She didn't kill you." He pushes through the tent opening, leaving the Golden Trio behind.

He is happy, but no one would know it by looking at him. He doesn't show it as Astoria does, isn't openly ecstatic, but they share the same joy. He is happy for her. They don't have to turn back or continue on their own. They can carry on with the plan to help get her parents back.

He hopes it happens soon. Despite Weasley's argument, he has been fighting for just as long if not longer than him and the other two. His war began before his sixth year and is still going on.

And he is tired.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed it.<p>

Reviews would be lovely.


	12. Chapter 12

Here is the next chapter.

To those that reviewed, I'm sure she is thankful.

I know I am (and it's not even my story... =_=; ) 

**Disclaimer: We do NOT own Harry Potter!**

* * *

><p>Ernie Macmillan holds his wand tentatively in his right hand and a small piece of parchment in his left. Written on the parchment are the five symbols that will take him to his family.<p>

He is nervous. He volunteered to be the first one sent home, to ensure that the process works. He is to copy the runes, touch the circle of light they tell him will form, and when he comes out on the other side he must contact them and tell them whether or not it works.

The method of contact is much simpler than the mode of transportation. They are using the coin method they used back in his fifth year to relay times for DA meetings. He will just carve his message, a mere yes or no. If it is no he is to apparate to the predetermined location in the forest just outside their camp.

He steps into the middle of the tent he shares with his housemates from Hogwarts. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Cho watch him to make sure that everything on this end goes correctly. They have assured him repeatedly that nothing dangerous will happen to him although he isn't sure they are entirely convinced. He chooses to believe them because it is much easier than the alternative.

If it doesn't work, nothing changes. He returns to the camp. But if it does work he can go home. He can see his mother and father again, play with his little brother and annoy his older sister. He can help his father make dinner and his mother tend the garden. He can teach his brother to play Wizard's Chess and listen to his sister talk about the latest fashion trends in wizard's robes.

He takes a deep breath and kneels down. He slowly and carefully sketches the symbols into the floor, making them exact as possible. He can't stop thinking about what awaits him if everything works out, if Hermione and Cho really have devised a way for him to be with his family again. He wonders where they went, how they will react when they see him.

He steps away from his work, watching as the floor begins to glow yellow, a circle growing out of the runes. He can see a room, a small, square table in the center. Seated around the table are four people, a man, two women, and a little boy. In the center of the table is a large chocolate cake decorated with snitches and broomsticks made of icing.

It's the perfect day to return home. His brother is turning nine.

He smiles at the others. "That's them!" They grin back.

"Do I just touch it?" He points at the yellow orb by his feet. Cho nods at him. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you then."

A chorus of goodbyes comes from outside the tent. The rest of the camp has been waiting outside, not wanting to be in the way but still wanting to be part of the action.

The four inside his tent smile at him and say their goodbyes. He smiles back and then turns his attention back to the glowing circle. He kneels down again, slowly, and stretches out his hand. He touches the center of the circle and a warm feeling flows through his body. The light climbs up his fingers, his arm, until it has encompassed his whole body.

With a flash of bright light, Ernie is gone.

Hermione reaches quickly into her pocket for her fake Galleon. She stares at the edges of the coin where the serial number is, waiting for it to change to an actual word. A yes.

The coin begins to grow hot in her hand, the numbers rearranging into letters.

Shouts of joy come from beside her, arms are around her, everyone congratulating the others on a job well done. Hermione breathes a sigh of relief and hugs the person nearest her. Ron lifts her off her feet in his excitement.

Ernie has found his family.

Harry is faced with a lot of tears. People happy to go home but sad to leave their friends. Finding something they lost only to leave another behind.

Some are hesitant, doubtful that drawing a bunch of pictures on the floor will take them to their families and that even if they could, it wouldn't be safe.

And then there are others that are so excited at the prospect of returning home that they have to draw the runes more than once because they draw them too hastily the first time, and no glowing circle appears at their feet.

Some elect to stay behind. Neville is one, telling the others that if he returned home now his gran would be so disappointed that she might disown him. Justin Finch-Fletchley stays behind as well. He knows his parents are safe in the muggle world and doesn't want to endanger them by going home. He did help the Wizarding World's Most Wanted Man stay on the run for several months, after all.

Fred, George and Ginny return home at the request of Harry-he feels terrible that he has taken so many of Mrs. Weasley's children with him, and Ron has no intentions of going back-with the promise that they will return soon. Luna goes as well. Her father has been by himself all these months and she misses him dearly. Hermione makes sure to take the other half of the locating rock from Luna, who believes it to be a token of good fortune, before she leaves, telling her that they will need all the luck they can get and placing it in the pocket of her jacket.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron make sure to personally see off everyone. Harry thanks them for staying with him, Hermione wishes them luck, and Ron makes some sort of joke to lighten the serious mood.

Astoria watches each of them leave, watches as the numbers in the camp begin to dwindle. Despite her early anger at their departure, she understands. If she could go home to her family she would.

But she has no family to return to right now and that is why she has to stay.

* * *

><p>The next will hopefully be up on schedule (I start class again on that day, so fingers crossed I remember).<p>

Reviews would be much appreciated.


	13. Chapter 13

I'm a day late-sorry!

So you know, after this there are four more chapters! Well, three and an epilogue, but whatever.

Enjoy :)

SO I got this in my email after I posted...XD 

"NINJA (She used my actual name here, but I'm replacing it with my nickname for this...)

CAN YOU PLEASE TELL THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN REVIEWING MY STORY THAT I AM GRATEFUL FOR THEIR REVIEWS AND GLAD THEY LIKE IT AND I WILL GET AROUND TO REPLYING TO THEM THIS WEEKEND PLEASE

THANK YOU

CAPS LOCK IS MY FRIEND"

I love that girl :3 xD

**Disclaimer: WE DO NOT IN ANY WAY OWN HARRY POTTER.**

* * *

><p>The silence in the camp creates an eerie feeling. There are now only four tents and less than fifteen people occupying the area. The usual underlying murmur running throughout the camp is gone, the fires put out.<p>

They all sit in one tent, friends and former enemies alike. No one speaks, the silence too big to fill with words. Instead they do activities that don't require talking-reading, flipping through old magazines, napping or staring into the fire.

Ron has never been fond of silences like this. He would prefer some chatting, even a whispered conversation. He wants to ask someone to play a game of chess but fears interrupting the prolonged quiet. One thing he has always liked about being a part of a large family is that there is never any quiet, particularly not in a large family with Fred and George as members.

He turns the pages of a quidditch magazine carefully, avoiding making any noise. He admires the different brooms, wishing he could go outside and play a game, flying high above the trees. But he can't and so he stares at the pictures in the magazine and dreams of being a professional quidditch player.

They remain in these general positions for several days, deviating from the routine only to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom, before Harry breaks the silence. "We should move."

"About time you suggested that, Potter." Draco wasn't as asleep as everyone thought.

Harry ignores him. "Any ideas, Hermione?"

Hermione closes her book and looks at him. "We could go back to the Forest of Dean."

Harry takes a moment to think this suggestion over but Draco interrupts. "That is a rather stupid idea, considering the Death Eaters already know that you have been there. It is one of the places they will have set up look out posts for you."

Several members of the group sigh. Harry glares at Draco but is forced to agree. "He's right. We have to go somewhere new."

Hermione is the first to come up with another idea. "What about France?"

Harry looks at her. "What?"

"France. I went there once when I was younger, with my parents. We stayed in the cities but I remember learning about a forest when I was younger. Argonne, I believe."

Harry glances at the other members of what is left of the group. He has never thought about going to another country. "What do you guys think?"

Most of the group remains silent, but Neville speaks up from his spot on the floor. "I think it's a good idea. They won't think about us leaving the country, it probably won't even occur to them to look for us in France."

"Longbottom has a point. Death Eaters aren't known for thinking outside the box." Draco sits up on the sofa and looks at the others.

"I agree," chimes in Astoria, taking the seat on the sofa that Draco had been occupying.

Harry stares at them, thinking about what they said. He had never thought about leaving the country, so why should the Death Eaters? It is probably their best chance at finding a safe place to set up camp for a long period of time without being found. They can form their plan to end the war.

"So, France it is, then?"

Everyone murmurs their consent and Harry delegates jobs for packing up the camp. Hermione, Astoria, Daphne, and Pansy check the campgrounds, making sure all the fires are completely out and that nothing is left. Harry, Neville, Blaise, and Goyle pack up the tents while Malfoy, Nott, Justin, and Ron walk the perimeter, checking that the coast is clear to bring down the wards.

Twenty minutes pass and the group meets in the center of the camp.

Harry notices the missing member first. "Where is Nott?" He directs his question towards Malfoy, who shrugs.

"He was checking that area of the perimeter." He points to the section behind Harry. They all turn around, but no one is there.

After several minutes of waiting, Hermione begins to walk towards the edge. "Maybe he walked outside the ward and can't get back in."

Something feels wrong. Harry watches Hermione go, an uneasy sensation building inside him. "Hermione…"

She keeps walking, stepping through to the other side of the ward. Harry waits tensely, meeting Ron's eyes. He knows Ron can feel it too, and Ron begins to take steps in Hermione's direction. Harry looks at the others and they too have looks of apprehension and trepidation. They follow Ron, waiting for Hermione to come back.

Her screams pierce the air, sending a shock through their systems.

Ron takes off running, calling out to her, with Harry following closely behind. They run straight through the ward and ten feet beyond, searching for her, any sign of her. The others come through the ward only moments after, wands out.

Harry can hear her now, his senses going into overdrive just like the night they captured Astoria and Malfoy. He can hear her whimpering, talking to someone he can't find.

He steps past Ron, pointing his wand in the direction of the noises he can hear. He listens intently, following the sound of Hermione's voice. Her attacker hasn't taken her anywhere yet and Harry assumes this is because of him. They want him, not her.

He can see a figure now, holding Hermione by her hair, wand under her chin. Hermione's wand lays snapped in half at the foot of a tree.

He tries to come quietly upon them but the figure looks up and Harry recognizes the mask. A Death Eater has found them.

Harry opens his mouth to say a spell, any spell. He hears the beginnings of spells from behind him and knows the others have the same idea as him-ambush the Death Eater, make him drop his wand and Hermione in surprise-but the Death Eater has a different idea.

"I wouldn't. I will kill her before the spell even leaves your lips." Nott pushes the wand harder against Hermione's chin.

Harry lowers his wand, the others doing the same behind him. "Take me. It's me he wants."

Nott shakes his head. "If I release her, you'll just attack me. But if I take her to him, you'll be forced to come rescue her."

It's as if seeing Hermione in pain is clouding his mind. All he can think of doing is getting her away from Nott, it's all he wants to do but he can't think straight, can't think of a solution to fix this quick enough. _She_ is the one with all of the answers, not him. He needs her to help him rescue her.

Malfoy speaks from behind him. "I thought you didn't support a crazed lunatic gaining power." There is a cold, hard look in his eyes.

Nott laughs. "I don't support him. But I saw my chance to gain power, my family's opportunity to gain power beneath him. All I have to do is get Potter to come to him."

In the next second they are gone, apparated out of the forest. Harry doesn't speak, just stares at the spot Nott and Hermione were standing moments before. The spot where he allowed a Death Eater to kidnap his best friend, take her right in front of him. Ron stands next to him in the exact same way and Harry knows he is thinking the exact same thing-Harry let him take her.

Neville leads them back to their packed up campground, practically pulling Harry and Ron behind him. He starts a fire and gathers logs to use as seats, sitting each boy down in one.

"You told me we could trust him." Harry turns to Malfoy, his voice accusatory.

Malfoy stares back. "I thought he was."

"We all did." Astoria sits next to Harry and tries to get him to meet her eyes, to see that they are being honest. Nott deceived them all.

Next to him, Harry can feel Ron shaking, trying to control his anger.

"He tricked us, Potter. All of us. He made us believe his story and we let him come along. He helped us and we thought he was on our side, and he wasn't." Malfoy is suddenly standing over him, his voice angry. "Now he has taken your best friend. What we thought about him isn't important now. The question now is what are you going to do about it?"

Harry stares up at him, thinking about all that has happened because of him, all the people that have died for him. His mother and father, Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Dobby, Snape, Tonks, Lupin, Colin. Even Hedwig. The people's lives he has disrupted, families that have been torn apart because of him.

He can't allow Hermione to die, to become a part of the lengthy list of people who have sacrificed their lives for him. He has to keep her alive. He knows what he is going to do.

He stands up and faces them.

"Nothing."

They look at him incredulously, Malfoy swearing under his breath, Astoria and Neville letting out strangled cries of "What?!" and Justin collapsing onto a log, repeating "You can't be serious, you can't be," over and over again. The three remaining Slytherins stare at him, traces of fear on their faces.

But it's Ron's reaction that gets to him. Ron stands up and looks his messy haired best friend directly in the eye. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and the intensity of the stare makes Harry want to look away.

But before he can, Ron pulls back his fist and punches him squarely in the nose.

* * *

><p>What an ending, huh?<p>

;)

Chapter Fourteen will be up either Thursday or Friday!

I'm curious-what do you think Harry's reaction will be? Let us know in a review! :)


	14. Chapter 14

I'm late and I am SO sorry!

KreachersintheNight ... your review was scarily accurate, lol! As for the rest, I can't answer. Not my place to!

You're getting a lot of information in this chapter...I hope that you enjoy it :)

**Disclaimer: We still don't own Harry Potter. And we never shall.**

* * *

><p>A hush falls over the group as Harry picks up his glasses, the nosepiece broken, and touches his nose gingerly. It is broken.<p>

"How can you just leave her there, after all she has done for you? She's our best friend, and you are going to let her _die_ at the hands of You-Know-Who." Ron glares at him, his hands balled into fists. "We have to rescue her."

Harry points his wand at his glasses, muttering "_Reparo_," and places them back on his face, wincing as they touch his nose. "It's better for her that way."

"How can that possibly be better for her?!" Ron's face is steadily becoming a deeper shade of crimson, his anger building.

"Because as long as he doesn't have me he won't kill her!" Harry bursts out, raising his voice for the first time in several days. "As long as I'm still in his way, he will keep her alive to get me to come running to him!"

There is silence as his words hit the group, the thoughts behind his desertion of Hermione. It isn't out of selfishness, it's a way to ensure she lives.

But it is selfish, and Harry knows it. Keeping her alive and in the hands of the enemy isn't what she wants, it's what he wants. But he can't bear knowing that she died because he ran straight into the hands of her captor.

"Still in his way? In the way of what, Potter?" Malfoy asks from behind him, the edge still in his voice. "He is the most powerful wizard in the world right now! You aren't in his way, you're running away. He only wants to kill you because it's been his goal for years. He has no need to, now that he has control and all resistance has gone into hiding. When he figures out that you aren't coming he will kill her."

Harry and Malfoy stare at each other. Harry knows he is right, that Hermione won't be kept alive forever but he can't think of any other way to prolong her life. "As soon as I go to her, he will kill her anyway."

"Not if we can get her out of there first."

Harry looks away, but not before Malfoy can see the shadow that crosses his face. And then he understands.

"You're afraid of facing him again." It seemed obvious now, why they spent so many months on the run instead of seeking out Voldemort. Potter didn't want to go up against him after losing already. "You're a bloody coward."

Harry turns away from them, walking away from the fire. "It's not that simple."

"Of course it is! He beat you last time and now you don't want to have to face him again!"

"He didn't beat me!" Harry whips around, anger etched on his face. "He didn't _beat_ me."

Malfoy crosses his arms across his chest. "We were all there. We saw your wands connect, saw both of you thrown back, and both of you run. But he gained power and you went into hiding. So if he didn't beat you, then tell us what happened, Potter."

The other members of the group are listening intently, trying to keep up with the back and forth between Harry and Draco. They remember what Draco does, and now that he brings up the different routes Harry and Voldemort have taken, they too want to know what happened.

Harry can't ignore them, their curious looks. Even Ron wants to hear his answer-all he knows is that the connection was broken and neither could end the fight there. Harry tried to keep himself away from Voldemort so that he couldn't be killed and to protect those who ran with him, not because he was afraid. At least, that's what Ron has always thought.

But maybe Malfoy has a point. It's been months since the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry has had plenty of time to find Voldemort and defeat him, but he hasn't mentioned anything about it.

"Well?" Malfoy pushes.

Harry sighs, pushing his hair back and rubbing his scar. "He didn't beat me. But he almost did."

There is a collective gasp among the group. Harry looks at the ground, ashamed. He has never told anyone, not even Hermione, about what really happened at the battle.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Neville's voice is kind, gentle in comparison to Malfoy's accusations. Ron is too stunned to speak. He falls back onto a log, staring.

Harry runs his hand through his hair. "The Priori Incantatem-the connection between our wands-I almost lost, almost let his magic overtake mine-let him push his light all the way to my wand. It would have killed me."

"But Harry, the lights-magic, whatever it's called-they were still in the middle when the connection broke." Ron is able to speak again.

Harry shakes his head. "I know. But I could feel myself losing my grip. I couldn't push hard enough. So I broke the connection and we both ran-I don't know why he ran, but I intended to come back for him, to finish him off, but…" He trails off, unsure of how to relay what he felt.

"But you were afraid." Malfoy finishes for him.

Harry nods. He hated to admit it, but it is true. "I'm afraid that I can't defeat him, that he will finish me off, and everything that has been done against him will all have been for nothing because he will live and I won't."

"But you have the elder wand, Harry. You can't be defeated." Ron stands up again, a hopeful look upon his face.

"The wand only channels the magic from its owner. If I am not more powerful than him, he will win."

It is quiet as once again they absorb what Harry tells them. As they accept that the one who is supposed to save them is admitting that he can't.

"Well," Astoria says after a moment, "that's a load of bollock."

Harry glances at her, unsure if he heard her right. "What?"

"You are the only one who can defeat him. Everyone knows that. There is a prophecy about you. And because you almost failed once, you're giving up. And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave." She rolls her eyes at him. "If you couldn't defeat him, then why are we still here? Why didn't he kill you then, if he is so much more powerful than you?"

"We were all there when you made your speech, Harry. When you were talking to him." Neville looks up at him. "We heard you tell him why you could defeat him, why you would win and he wouldn't. Because-"

"Because I have something worth living for." Harry remembers.

"Exactly. And you still do." Neville motions at the group. "And Hermione, and Luna, and Ginny, and a lot more, Harry."

"Why do you think you were going to lose? I mean, what was causing you to lose?" It's the first time Daphne has said anything to him since she's been here.

Harry drops to the ground and puts his head into his hands. He remembers starting off strong, pushing his light towards Voldemort's wand. He had been thinking of his family, of what was to come after the war. But as the light got closer to his opponent's wand his thoughts began to turn negative. He saw the faces of everyone lost in the war, the destruction he had caused, and as much as he tried he couldn't push the thoughts away, and the light began sliding back in his direction. He couldn't escape the darkness in his mind, he was going to lose, so he did the next best thing-he broke the connection and left the battle until he was strong enough to win.

And he still isn't strong enough, not after all these months, and he isn't sure he will ever be.

"You have to stop thinking about them that way." Astoria's voice is quiet.

Harry blinks at her. He hadn't realized he told the story aloud.

"You have to stop thinking that it is your fault. Stop thinking that you caused all of this-the war, their deaths-because you didn't. _He_ did. You are a victim of his choices and so is everyone else who has died because of him-because of _him_, not you."

Malfoy helps her. "These people, they didn't die because of you, or even for you. They died trying to stop him and if you don't at least try again, then they died in vain."

Justin joins in. "We've lost so much already. Don't let us lose the war, too."

Harry looks between them, listening to what they are saying. He has been told it all before but maybe it's the people who are telling him-a girl he's never spoken to before a few days ago, a boy he has hated for nearly half of his life, and another who everyone once thought Harry had petrified. People who aren't saying these things because they want Harry to feel better about himself-well, Justin maybe, but certainly not the other two-but because they genuinely believe it.

Harry meets Astoria's eyes, remembers that he is her only chance to rescue her parents from Voldemort's curse. If he doesn't try, she will have lost her parents to the same person who took his, whose followers took Neville's, and the closest thing he had to a father. Who took his family and countless others. Who now has one of his best friends.

He remembers the promise he made to Astoria, the promise to stop Voldemort.

They have lost so much already. They have left behind family and friends, and even bigger than that, they have left behind a world that is safe to live in, a peaceful world not run by a demented dictator.

Maybe it is time to find what they left behind.

"Alright." Harry gets up. Smiles spread across the faces of the group-they have him back, the one who can lead them to victory, he hasn't given up, not yet. "But how do we save Hermione? We don't even know where she is."

"Ah, the flaw in Nott's brilliant plan. He has always been an idiot." Malfoy kicks a rock and watches as it skids across the ground.

The group is silent as they think, brainstorming ideas to find Hermione's location, but come up with nothing that will allow them to safely learn her location-most ideas involve calling upon a Death Eater.

"We could do it, but we don't know how many would show up. We could probably take two or three, but any more and they could overpower us. We wouldn't know where they apparated to." Malfoy doesn't like the idea of calling the Death Eaters-he is the only one who can do it, and they don't take too kindly to deserters.

"The rock!" Ron jumps up from his seat and points at Malfoy. "The locating spell!"

Malfoy's voice takes on a tone one would use when talking with a small child. "She has to have the other half for that-"

"She has it! She put it in her jacket pocket when Luna gave it to her!"

"That's brilliant, Ron! Do you have the other half?" Harry turns to Malfoy but he already has the rock out, turning it over in his hands. "How does it work?"

Malfoy doesn't answer, still flipping the rock over and over, but Blaise speaks for him, the first time since they returned from the forest. "It's similar to a Portkey-very similar, actually. The halves of the rock are connected to each other, constantly pulling at each other. They want to be together, to reform the whole. Once it is activated, which Malfoy is doing now, and begins to glow brightly, almost blindingly, we touch it. It will begin to vibrate, and then transport us-like a Portkey-as close as possible to the other half. It can't penetrate wards, but it will put us directly at the edge of it."

The group watches as Malfoy activates rock by constantly turning it over and over-they aren't exactly sure how it works but it doesn't matter. The glow is already getting brighter. They are getting closer to Hermione.

"Shouldn't someone fix Potter's nose before we go?" Surprisingly, it is Goyle who suggests this.

Everyone but Malfoy looks at him. "Erm, I guess…if anyone knows how."

Pansy stands up, walking around the fire, and points her wand at his nose. "_Episkey_."

His nose is fixed. He is reminded of Luna, who performed the same spell on him after Malfoy broke his nose. And now his former enemy was fixing his nose after his best friend broke it.

"Thanks."

She manages a slight smile, a genuine smile. It's something Harry has never seen on her before. "No problem. I've always wanted to be a Healer."

This is not what Harry would have expected her to want to be. A housewife to some rich pureblood, yes, but a Healer, someone who actually helps others? The thought seems strange to him, but he accepts that he knows very little about who these people really are.

Ron makes a face. "Sorry 'bout that mate."

Harry shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I needed it. A wake up call." They smile at each other and know that whatever broke between them earlier is now fixed.

Harry points his wand at the fire, putting it out with a jet of water, just as Malfoy sticks his hand between all of them. "Everyone, touch it!"

They each immediately put a finger on it, touching as little as possible so that all ten of them can fit. It begins to vibrate, and just before the tightness in his chest tells him he is being transported, he has time for one thought.

_We're coming, Hermione._

* * *

><p><em><em>Bet you can't wait for the next chapter.

We're almost to the end.

Review please

:)


	15. Chapter 15

Enjoy.

;3

**Disclaimer: We do NOT own Harry Potter!**

* * *

><p>The members of Dumbledore's Army pace in their homes, walking back and forth along a hallway, trailing their fingers on the wall, or burning a bare spot in the carpet of the parlor.<p>

This is what they had wanted for so long. To go home and be with their families, to stop having to fight for their lives. They had wanted a break.

But this is much too long, much too quiet. They have been home for four days and heard nothing of those who stayed with Harry.

This is wrong, it feels very _wrong_. They should be with Harry, with their fellow Army members, making sure everyone is alright and taking down a few Death Eaters should they appear. They should be practicing their spells with duels not listening to the Wizarding radio with their fathers. They should be sleeping in tents next to their mates and eating around campfires, not sharing a room with a sibling or eating their mother's stuffed turkey.

The last day at the camp should have been a wakeup call. They all felt how hard it was to leave each other even though they were doing what they had waited so long for. It shouldn't have surprised them that when they did return to their relatives they would feel something was missing. They had left one family back in May only to gain another, and now they had left that too.

It should have felt better. They should have felt safe and happy but after the first two days all they felt was restless. They want to be out there in the forests or traversing countryside, not hidden away in a safe house. They hadn't gone through everything that they had just to quit. They want to go back. They want to fight.

They are in the middle of a war, for Merlin's sake.

They hope Harry hasn't written them off. They hope he knows that they want to come back, they want to join him again, they want to keep battling.

Now all they can do is wait. This doesn't sit well with any of them. Waiting always puts them at a disadvantage. Waiting leads to being less aware, to mind wandering, and that leads to a surprise attack from the enemy while they are daydreaming and that leads to loss.

So they pace, some with their hands in their pockets playing with the coin that will take them to where they belong, others holding it firmly in their hand, staring at it as they walk in circles around their room, as if they could get the inscription to change by pure will.

It just needs to heat up, and it needs to do it soon.

After a day of waiting for the coin to change, some feel disappointment. They slump against the wall, eyes closed, thinking they should never have left in the first place and now they will never get back.

Others see it as a sign of hope. It means nothing bad has happened and everyone is safe for now.

Most are beginning to think of venturing out on their own. They think they could handle it, maybe even find some of the others and make their own group.

All are happy when, on the fourth day, they feel the heat against their leg or in the palm of their hand. They watch numbers shift into letters, grins spreading across their faces, and think to themselves, _I can finally go back._

Before the coin has finished changing they are saying goodbye to their families, explaining that they have to go, they need to get back in the battle. It's bittersweet-they've only just returned-but the families understand. They will never have their child, their brother or sister, back until they have finished what they started. Until Voldemort is dead.

And Dumbledore's Army knows this is it. They know it when the coin has finished changing. This will be the final battle.

They disapparate, unaware of what fate awaits them, but that doesn't matter. They are at the finish line, and they aren't going down without a fight.

They are soldiers.

* * *

><p>So, the chapter was short. And not about the fight, as I'm sure you were expecting. No worries, that will definitely be the next-which is the last before the epilogue, by the way.<p>

Please review.

See you soon.

:)


	16. Chapter 16

I realize that I'm days late, and I apologize.

You'll be happy to know, though, that this is a long, eventful chapter. It's the one you've been waiting for.

Happy reading!

**Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter!**

* * *

><p>They are deposited in a dark room, each hitting the ground with a small <em>thud<em> and releasing a whoosh of breath. When they stand they find that the room is in ruins, as if there has already been a battle. A statue in the middle has been blown apart, pieces strewn across the floor with only the base still intact. There are jagged holes in the wall and parts are missing completely. The ceiling is crumbling and the few lights left intact are dim.

It feels familiar to them, as if they have all been there at some time.

Harry tries to imagine it as it should be. The statue fixed. The lights bright enough to see clearly by. People coming through, passing him by. He knows where they are.

It's the lobby of the Ministry of Magic.

"We're in the ministry. That's the statue of…of muggles in their 'rightful place.'"

"What happened in here?" Astoria nudges a piece of the marble statue with her foot.

"A battle, I'm guessing. And he's too lazy to clean up, even if his statue has been destroyed. But why are there no guards or Death Eaters?" It seemed odd, it was too easy to infiltrate Voldemort's living place.

A smile dawns on Malfoy's face. "This wasn't just any battle. He attacked his Death Eaters. That's why he hasn't cleaned up; it's a reminder to the ones remaining."

"Why would he attack his own followers?" Confusion fills Goyle's voice.

"He does it when they don't do what he wants-to discourage others from displeasing him again. He kills off a few to frighten the rest. He probably is angry that no one has brought you in yet, Potter. And Nott forgetting the most important part of the plan, not telling us where to go."

"Where do you think Hermione is?" Ron is the first to remember why they are here.

Harry racks his brain, but it's Daphne that comes up with the answer. "The Minister's office. It would be the ultimate sign of control, seated in the Minister's chair."

Harry nods. "Right. And a plan? Now is probably the best time to go in, his ranks are depleted."

"Barge in and jinx everyone that is not Hermione?" Neville shrugs his shoulders noncommittally, shoving something hastily into his left pocket as he pulls his wand out of his right one.

Malfoy pulls his wand out. "I like it. And Nott is mine." The others look at him questioningly. "He lied to me, and made me a liar and a fool. It's time for revenge."

"So this is about you." A half smile forms on Harry's face.

Malfoy smirks back. "Of course it's about me." He points down the hallway that will take them to the Minister's lobby and then, through that, the office. "Lead the way, Potter."

Harry meets Astoria's eyes. They are about to save her parents, about to fulfill the mission she set out on months ago. And he is going to end the war, fulfilling the mission given to him when he was only one year old.

Ron will be able to return to his family, Neville will make his gran proud, and Justin can be sure his family is safe in the muggle world. Goyle can get revenge for his father and Malfoy can get revenge for what Voldemort put him and his family through.

And the hundreds of Voldemort's victims will be avenged, the families satisfied that the murderer of their kin is dead.

Harry just needs to maintain his strength.

He takes a deep breath. "Ready?" He raises his eyebrows at Astoria.

She grins at him. "After you." She steps to the side and sweeps her arms in the direction of the hallway.

He leads the way quietly down the hallway. His wand is held out in front of him. He runs over every spell he knows, every jinx he has ever cast. He pauses before the door.

"On the count of three, I will push open the door," he whispers to them. He can feel the tension as they prepare themselves. "We charge through and jinx anyone we see. One." He grips his wand tighter in his hand so the sweat on his palms won't make him lose his grip. "Two." He bends his knees, ready to run through the door. "Three."

He pushes the door open and sprints through. Shouts of "It's Potter!" and "Get him!" fill the air. A man twice his size stands in front of him, reaching into his robes to get his wand but Harry has already stupefied him. He falls, his head hitting the floor with a sickening sound.

He spins around, casting every jinx he can think of on anyone he doesn't recognize as part of his group. Different colored jets of light fly around the room, more hitting the walls and ceilings than people.

He is surprised to find that his group is holding its own against the Death Eaters despite being outnumbered at least one to two. Masked figures strewn the floor while not a single one of his has gone down.

He ducks behind an overturned table as a red jet of light narrowly misses his head, and something above him catches his eye.

Hermione is suspended in the air above him, her wrists and ankles bound by rope. Her wrists are slung over an arm of the large chandelier in the center of the room. She is gagged and unconscious.

He points his wand at the rope around her wrist, cries "_Relashio!_" He hopes it hits only the rope and misses her flesh, knows it hit the rope when she falls through the air. He panics-she is going to hit the ground too hard-and shouts the only spell he can think of. "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Her body slows down. She begins to lift a little, a result of the spell. He breathes a sigh of relief and carefully lowers her to the ground beside him. He pulls the gag out of her mouth and unties the rope around her ankles. He prods her gently in the shoulder, and then harder, until he is shaking her, trying to get her to wake up. Finally he points his wand at her chest. "_Enervate!_" A burst of yellow light travels into her chest and a moment later her eyes fly open.

"Harry!" She sits up, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Harry, you're here!"

"'Course, I am. Here, take this and stay here for a while. I doubt you're strong enough to fight yet." He hands her his wand. He hears popping sounds coming from the fray behind him and he hopes that they are a good sign for his side.

"Harry, no! You need it!"

He puts it in her hand and closes her fingers around it. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Elder Wand. "I've got this."

"Well, in that case…" She takes the wand.

He stands up again, ready to jump back in the battle, but all the remaining Death Eaters are occupied. There seems to be more people in the room, almost twice as many as when he jumped behind the table to help Hermione.

The friends he had sent home, his soldiers he put on leave, his army has arrived. The popping sounds he heard earlier were the sound of them apparating in.

Fred appears at his shoulder, grinning broadly. "Neville sent out a message on the coin that said 'Ministry.' We all assumed you were heading into battle and needed our help." Fred fires a curse at a Death Eater that Ernie is fighting ten feet away. Ernie looks at him gratefully, giving him a thumbs up, before turning to engage another Death Eater in battle. "Well, I better get going, Harry. See you 'round." He takes off, casting spell after spell at his opponents.

Harry stares for a moment. In the midst of battle he has something to be happy about. His soldiers-his friends have returned to help him. They were only taking a momentary break, as he thought they would. They still believe in him even if he has trouble believing in himself.

But he doesn't have much time to revel as a green light soars past his head and hits the wall behind him, creating a large crack from the ceiling to the floor.

Blaise is nearest him, and just as he is about to join him in the fight, he sees a jet of green light come from the wand of one of the Death Eater's Blaise is fighting.

"No!" He jumps over the table, scrambling towards him. "Blaise-"weHe pintHe But it's too late; the curse has hit him squarely in the chest. His eyes widen, a small gasp escapes him, and he falls.

"No! _Stupefy!_" He hits the one who killed Blaise, sending him flying into the wall behind him, and Harry is once again engaged in battle.

There is another explosion to Harry's right and he whips around to see several bodies flying through the air, Dark and Light alike. He watches as the bodies hit, slamming into the walls and floors. He rushes to the one nearest him, trying to get her to sit up so he knows she is okay, but she doesn't, she won't, she _can't_. Blood trickles from the wound in her head and he grasps her hand as she takes her last breaths.

She is smiling at him, a light in her eyes even as she is dying, and Harry knows she knows they would never have gotten here if he hadn't given Draco a chance, if he hadn't kept his promise to her. The light leaves her eyes and he levitates her to the side, covering her with a curtain that has been cursed off the windows. He lets out a cry of frustration and of sadness. He has lost two in a matter of seconds.

He can't think clearly. The screams pound in his head, the lives lost flashing across his mind, Parvati's eyes floating through his thoughts. He has to end this soon, has to end it before he shatters.

Suddenly, ropes fly across the room, wrapping themselves around the members of his group. The battle stops, the Death Eaters flattening themselves against the walls, as a high, cold voice speaks from a doorway at the back of the lobby. "I think that is quite enough."

Harry turns, facing the owner of the voice. He stares at him, pure hatred filling him. He is the reason Harry is here, the reason they are all here.

"Hello, Harry." Voldemort smiles, a creepy stretch of his thin lips. "I didn't know when I would be seeing you again. Perhaps now you will allow me to finish you off?"

Harry laughs. "Actually, Tom, I've come to finish you off."

Voldemort comes closer. "Have you, now? You think you are strong enough to defeat me, when you have already failed once?" His red eyes sweep up and down Harry.

"I haven't failed yet. I will only fail when I give up trying to stop you."

It's Voldemort's turn to laugh. "Do you still think you can stop me? I am much more powerful than you could ever hope to be."

Harry shakes his head. "Do you not remember our last conversation, Tom? I told you, I have a magic you could never hope to understand. It's what brought me here tonight."

Voldemort's face turns angry, his voice becomes a hiss. "Of course, love. A magic that old fool Dumbledore believed so much in. And where did that get him? Killed."

"I've already told you, it was a part of his plan."

"And his plan failed."

Harry smiles. "See, you do remember!"

Voldemort's slits become narrower, his lips pressed together in anger at Harry's mocking tone. "I do remember. His plan to die as the last master of the Elder Wand failed, and you became its master. But," his smile returns, slits widening again, the anger leaving his face, "I overpowered you the last time we met. I was the triumphant caster of the Priori Incantatem. I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

He laughs, higher and colder than his voice. He holds out his hand expectantly, as if the wand will fly into his palm.

Harry shakes his head again. "But you didn't overpower me, Tom. I broke the connection. I am still the sole master of the Elder Wand."

But Voldemort is still smiling. "Circumstances are not much different than the last time we met, are they, Harry? You couldn't defeat me then."

"I was different then. I was hindered because I was taking on the guilt that should lie on your shoulders." Harry steps closer to Voldemort. He repeats the offer he made at Hogwarts. "But if you accept the guilt, if you feel remorse, you can be saved."

Voldemort laughs again. "You are proof that love can only make you weak. It gets in the way of the greatness that can be achieved!"

"Why did you run last time, Tom? If you thought I was weak-that love made me so weak-why did you run?" It's the one question Harry hasn't been able to answer.

"Isn't obvious, Harry? No?" Voldemort's smile widens, lips almost disappearing from being stretched too far. "Once you broke the connection, once I knew you were going to run, I realized I had already won. I didn't need to kill you, you destroyed yourself! The hero of the war ran away. The resistance would give up. And they did. They went into hiding and I gained power!"

Harry listened but didn't absorb the words. He wouldn't let Voldemort put the blame on him, not now, even if that was his fault. He needed to remember that not everything was his fault, that he could fix it all, end the war, as long as he forgave himself.

"But you still want to kill me."

"Yes. It would be most satisfying to crush the one thing standing in my way for so many years, even if it is no longer in my way." He trains his wand on Harry.

Harry yells "_Expelliarmus!_" just as the words "_Avada Kedavra!_" escape from Voldemort's lips. The spells collide in mid-air, and the beams of light that connected these two wands only months ago return, forming the same connection.

The wand vibrates beneath Harry's hand. He wraps his other hand around the wand and pushes the beam coming from it. He wills it away from him, towards Voldemort. The closer he gets, the harder it is. But he is prepared this time. He thinks of all the people whose death Voldemort has caused; of the families he has torn apart. He thinks of his best friend being kidnapped, of Blaise being killed. And he thinks of his own mother and father, of Sirius and Lupin, of how they sacrificed themselves for _this_ moment. He thinks about the outcome, of the families reunited, of the world that will reemerge.

Everyone will find what they thought they had left behind forever.

Harry's beam connects with Voldemort's wand. His wand vibrates harder, so hard he almost lets go but he tightens his grip, holding on until the end. With a loud crash and a flash of light, Voldemort is gone, replaced by what looks to be a shriveled baby.

It shudders and then is still. Voldemort is dead.

He is tackled to the ground. Immediately, he begins to defend himself, trying to push off the attacker but then realizes he knows that laugh and those cries. Hermione and Ron are on top of him, hugging him, congratulating him.

"It's over." He has never felt more relief in his life.

They stand up, surveying the room.

"I suppose we should tell someone." Harry looks to Hermione.

She nods, pointing his wand. "_Expecto Patronum!_" A silver otter erupts from the tip. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry Potter has defeated Voldemort in the minister's office. The war is over." They watch as the otter disappears.

Another pair of arms are around his neck, and then another. Astoria and Daphne cry into his shoulders. "You've done it, Harry. We can go home."

Draco stares at Blaise's lifeless body. His face is weary, a tired look in his eyes Harry recognizes only too well-it's the same look that convinced Harry he needed to send the others home.

"I tried to warn him." Harry comes up behind Draco, an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Another casualty of the war." Draco looks at Harry. "Shame. He was really one of the only Slytherins I actually liked."

Harry smiles but doesn't laugh. Despite the jokes, he knows Blaise was one of Draco's friends. And he knows how much it hurts to lose one. He turns to find Neville but the sight of one of the Death Eater's on the ground stops him. He is writhing in pain, several tentacles protruding from his body, and warts erupted across his face.

Harry looks pointedly between the Death Eater and Draco, who shrugs. "I hit him with a lot of things. No one makes a fool out of me."

Harry nods, laughing to himself, and leaves Nott writhing on the floor.

The aurors begin to arrive. They congratulate Harry and the others and begin to arrest the Death Eaters. Some talk with him, telling them about their time spent in hiding, trying to find some way to contact him but with no idea where he was, it was impossible. He listens politely to their stories but is too tired to take any of it in. All he wants to do is find Ron and Hermione.

Instead he finds Padma, kneeling beside her sister, the curtain still covering her. Harry knows she probably refused to believe it at first, not going near the curtain until she had searched the entire room thoroughly twice. She isn't crying, not yet, as she reaches out her hand, gripping the curtain tightly in her hand, and pulling it back. A loud wail escapes her and her shoulders sag. She pulls Parvati's body into her lap, holding her like she had whenever Parvati needed it growing up, rocking her back and forth, her chin resting on her head. Harry can't bear watching anymore, he doesn't know what to do. This is Hermione's area, not his.

Hermione and Ron come up behind him, Hermione taking his hand, Ron putting an arm around him.

Parvati and Blaise aren't the only ones he lost that night. They aren't the only ones who sacrificed their lives for the cause.

He has eleven funerals to go to after this battle. Parvati Patil. Blaise Zabini. Susan Bones. Angelina Johnson. Terry Boot. Wayne Hopkins. Sally-Anne Perkins. Jack Sloper. Anthony Goldstein. Ritchie Coote. Laura Madley.

He would remember these names for a long time, if not forever, just as he remembers all the others that died in this war.

His friends lead him away from the scene of the battle, out into the hallway, talking to him the whole way, but he only pays attention to one thing.

They can finally go home.

* * *

><p>Well. Did you cry? I sure did. Each time I've read it.<p>

One more chapter left, folks. The epilogue.

Please, review.


	17. Epilogue

And now, a word from your writer:

hi everyone! turtle53, making an appearance on my own story. I just wanted to thank everyone who has stuck with it until the end even though the second half of the story wasn't posted until a very long time after the first half. Thanks to B00kw0rm92, Starzinmieyez, and avid reader for always leaving such nice reviews, and to everyone else who left a review but I wasn't able to get back to. I really appreciate it!

and of course, special thanks to ninja82 for taking matters into her own hands and deciding to finish posting the chapters for me!

**Disclaimer: We do NOT own Harry Potter**

* * *

><p>Astoria and Daphne stand on the doorstep of their house. They interlock their hands, relying on each other for strength. Tentatively, Astoria turns the knob and pushes the door open. Inside the house it is silent.<p>

They step through the doorway and walk through to the parlor, floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Astoria pushes through the swinging doors and into the room.

"DAD!" She releases her sister's hand and flings herself into the arms of her unsuspecting father. "You're all right!"

Her father chuckles, patting her head consolingly. He has no idea why his daughter is acting this way. "Of course I am, darling. Why on earth would I not be?"

But neither of his daughters answers him. Both are sobbing uncontrollably into the arms of a parent, Daphne having nearly tackled her mother the moment she saw her.

They had all the time in the world to explain what had happened.

* * *

><p>The moment Goyle returns home he runs up the stairs to his mother's room, the noise of his loud footsteps filling the entire house. He crashes through her door and skids to a stop in front of her. She is seated in a rocking chair, knitting what looks to be a pair of socks.<p>

Breathless, Goyle manages to get out a sentence unimpeded. "He is dead!"

His mother's brow knits in confusion, pushing aside her anger at her son. She is about to ask where he has been for so long, why he didn't bother to write or even leave a note, she thought he had _died_ in the battle, when realization dawns on her. Her eyes widen as she understands who he is talking about.

She jumps out of her chair, tossing her knitting aside and throwing her arms around his neck, tears of joy streaming down her face. They dance around the room, jumping on the furniture, singing and cheering.

The monster who killed her husband and his father is dead, and her son is alive. She has never been happier.

* * *

><p>When Harry returns to the Burrow after a long chat with Dumbledore's portrait at Hogwarts, he is greeted by loud cheers and fireworks. He is pulled into hugs, a hundred "Well done, Harry"s tossed around. People outside the family have come to congratulate and thank him as well; he recognizes Tom the Innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron and even Mafalda Hopkirk as part of the guests.<p>

When the crowd has dispersed some, Harry makes his way to Ron and Hermione, standing by the door of the house. Ron tosses Harry a broom, which he catches in just enough time to avoid a face full of wood.

"Up for a game of quidditch, Harry?"

Harry grins at him. "Always."

The cheers start again as the Weasley children and several other of his friends file out of the house and head towards the makeshift quidditch field. There hasn't been any time for games since the war began.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stay at the back of the group, following the others. Harry remembers when he was the leader of the group, the general of an army thrown together out of defiance three years ago. They were his soldiers, willing to trust him no matter what he asked them to do, willing to protect him so the fight would continue on.

They had lost part of their lives in this war, part of themselves. They would always remember what they went through, the battles they fought and the loved ones they lost. They wouldn't be as light-hearted as the younger generations, having faced things no young person should ever have to face. But they would know when to not be so serious; when it was okay to have fun and laugh.

That was the beauty of it. They were soldiers-the best he could ever hope for-but they were young. They had plenty of time to recover from the tragedy of war.

And what better way to start the recovery than with a game of quidditch?

* * *

><p>That's all, folks.<p>

turtle53, you are very welcome. ^_^

Reviews would be lovely.

:)


End file.
